dinesh maneer
monsoon street
Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night ends with a fool, singing — and that seems appropriate. The play is over, all the character arcs have been properly attended to, true identities have been revealed, people have married (or promised to marry), and after Malvolio storms off vowing revenge on just about everybody, the stage empties. Except for the fool. Who breaks into song.
For the rain it raineth every day.
And so it does. Somewhere, right now as you’re reading this, right now as you’re looking at this photograph, it’s raining. Maybe it’s a polite, gentlemanly rain that doesn’t so much fall as settle graciously on well-mannered gardens. Maybe it’s a violent, hail-ridden torrent driven by a mesocyclonic supercell slashing sideways over open fields, promising tragedy on Dorothy (and her little dog too). Maybe it’s a sprinkling of rain over a New England trout stream, or maybe it’s pissing down straightline ropes of rain and pummeling anybody foolish enough to be on the streets, or maybe it’s a slow and constant daylong soaking rain that forces farmers to say “Aye, good for the crops”, or maybe it’s one of those peculiar Iberian rains that stay mainly in the plain.
But the fool is right — at least about the rain. It raineth every day. And it makes me want to break into song.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, greg fallis and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
