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I am always struck by the force of the rain in the tropics. On a tin roof, it can be deafening, yet enchanting. There is something about the force of the raindrops on the roof and the way it splatters onto the concrete with such power. It makes a statement. I'm here! Listen to me!
It has a rhythm -- the sound as it strikes the roof and the way it moves once it hits the ground.
The rain in Dili is getting more and more rare even though we are still in the midst of the rainy season. You can see that the mountains are getting plenty of rain -- from the swollen, muddy streams that flow through Dili and from the thick fog hanging on the mountains south of town.
The rain slows things down -- those on motorbikes take cover, cars slow down and just now a confused rooster started crowing as the dark clouds grew even more dark.
I like the rain. It reminds me of sitting on my grandma's porch on a summer day -- watching the down spout carry buckets and buckets of water from the roof -- as the cows in the pasture land across the way -- kept grazing -- seemingly not to notice.
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