It started raining last night around 9pm and it’s still drizzling now, 26 hours later. The small stream by the bus stop was a rushing river as I crossed the bridge this morning. The surrounding foliage burst into maturity over night.
There’s something I love about the rain in Korea.
Heavy and incessant, it washes away the grime of modernity, if only for a day.
Breathe is clear and deep.
The white clouds in the mountains remind me of a place long before I was born.