Handwritten text: It’s Raining and *crossed out* I Run down the street in a slightly unsuccessful attempt at not getting *crossed out* all my bags wet. I look at the water drops in the puddels and how they Ripple out. Drip, drip, drip, as they fall each drop creates movement, a singular event repeated over and over, yet they all flow together running down the edge of the sidewalk. I’m running too now, but my bags are already wet.
