The Weight of Water

There is a moment before the sky breaks when the air turns heavy, pressing against the skin like a damp wool coat. We wait for the release. We stand in the threshold, watching the world lose its edges, turning into a gray blur of motion and sound. It is a cleansing, perhaps. Or simply a reminder that we are small, and that the elements do not care for our plans or our shelter. In the north, we learn to respect the storm, to stand still and let the cold wash over us. We do not fight the rain; we let it define the space we occupy. When the water falls, the noise becomes a kind of silence, drowning out the thoughts we carry like stones in our pockets. We are left with nothing but the rhythm of the falling, the pulse of the earth drinking its fill. What remains when the sky finally clears and the ground is soaked through?

Jabbar Jamil has captured this stillness in his photograph titled Heavy Rain. It is a quiet study of a world being washed clean. Does the rain feel as heavy where you are?