One split second of excruciating boredom between two mildly diverting texts is enough, said the rain.
One aims for a cloudy kind of sanity, another for the madness of rain. How to reconcile these in a single text? How to hear music?
The text of rain is indecipherable yet audible. The conversation of rain is indistinguishable from the music of rain.
The text of music apprehended as between a cry and a whistle. Between rain running down one’s face and as noise in the chest.
Weather is brewing the possibility of rain. We read its text forward like an apprehension of music and the meaning of music.
I am music, says rain. I am text, says music. I am rain says text. I am, I am, I am. Somebody somewhere is. So say text, music and rain.
I have not considered the question of mortality, says music. I am mortality. That’s what the text says. And look, it’s raining.
There is no text only the possibility of rain. There is always the possibility of rain.