There is something strangely romantic about walking in the rain, in the evening, in the city.
I strolled down the CBD area last evening as the rain poured relentlessly down on me. Around me, workers rushed around in their office attire while the roads were crammed with cars, bumper to bumper. Their headlights shone brightly and occasionally, an impatient driver would sound the horn. Lights from the nearby buildings cast a yellow glow on the rainy, grey skies, beckoning the sodding wet pedestrians to step into their presumed warmth.
As I walked, I felt oddly detached from the entire scene. It was almost as if I was invisible and walking within a bubble as a quiet observer. It could be because I was plugged into the isolating earphones of my iPod while the soothing strains of Mazzy Star played in my ears. The hustle and bustle of city life was blocked out.
My steps were slow and leisurely, my perky pink umbrella shielding me from the drops of water pelting down, an anomaly in the drab colours of other brollies that zoomed past me. It felt as if the grey from the skies had seeped out of the canvas, colouring everything else in the surroundings the same dull shade. Except me with my pink umbrella, green jacket and pink yoga pants. Now, not only were the sounds removed, the colours were also swept away.
Normally, rainy weather such as that evening would bring out the pensive monster in me but at that moment, all I could think was, this is so surreally beautiful.
It’s terribly odd because one does not mention CBD and beautiful in the same breath but that was how it felt like. And it felt almost as if I was in a movie, where the soundscape has been silenced by the soundtrack that’s playing.
The spell was broken when I stepped into One George Street, as gleaming dry floors and radiant lights welcomed me back to the restlessness of the city again.
But for that one moment in time, the humming of the city paused just for me.