That’s a good way to look at it. Rain drumming on the window is like a quiet montage, each drop a tiny pause in a story we’re watching in our own heads. Sometimes I sit there and let the sound fill the room, and the world feels a bit more still, like a frame holding its breath. It’s a nice, familiar kind of movie, no need for a fancy script.

It’s almost like the room is a still frame, and the rain’s steady drip is the breathing that keeps the whole thing alive. I love how the sound just settles into the corners, as if the house itself is inhaling. It gives me a moment to just pause, almost like the world itself is holding its breath for a heartbeat.

That’s the trick of a quiet house – it’s got its own rhythm, and in that pause is where the stories linger, like a forgotten reel waiting to play again.