The rain falls over the City, cleansing the ground, rendering a soft glow on the coloured roofs; people walk, attentive, checking their steps to avoid puddles. The sound of traffic is muted, the jackdaws fly higher, in deep reflection. It is as if time was slowing down, as if the City was pausing, observing, maybe wondering what this strange abstract picture of our lives really means: is the past catching up, melting our present into the unfathomable future?
The rain falls, and we become part of the painting, already absorbing the bright colours of Spring.
Image: M.C. Escher, Puddle, 1952. Woodblock print. Via: http://szobel.tumblr.com/