When I’m behind the lens, the rain feels like a quiet confession. I see the world slow, droplets turning the streets into mirrors, and a soft gray that makes the horizon look a bit hollow. I watch the clouds drift, counting how long each rain‑kiss lasts, and I feel that same quiet melancholy you mentioned. It’s a gentle reminder that even the heaviest downpour can be a kind of stillness, a moment to pause and listen.