In the evening, it began to rain.
From the other side of the window came the sound of drops on dry stubble, and muted light of a melancholy blue. The noise elaborated silence, as I watched a stray drop roll down the glass.
It was the kind of rain that would have been as good to go out to, as it would have been to come in from.
Yet I chose to stay thus in my lone rocking chair, with the cup of tea still steaming.
It was getting dark.
[That was the mood of the picture, but it is doctored – Clicked on a hot summer afternoon for a friend who needed it. It took me a mirror, a mug of water, some house plants, and a toothbrush.]