Sitting in a cafe sipping tea. Woman walking out the door, talking to person behind counter, "I'm so sick of this rain. It won't stop."
People so easily fall into the habit of complaining about the gloomy, rainy weather that they turn their behavior shallow and transparent. They fail to see the beauty of the swirling droplets of moisture in the light breeze, backlit by the early morning sun. They fail to see the gorgeous, soft hints of violet at the edges of the not too distant clouds and how they look against the luminous white and silver strata of suspended water. It is a subjective reality and they limit themselves to the perceptive lens of other people's misplaced and misfounded expectations of how they should see the world. They are living in the reactions of someone else's memory. C'est dommage...