Notes

It is almost midnight as I write this. There is a thunderstorm raging outside and flashes of lightning streak through the window from time to time. I woke up a few hours ago, pleasantly sore from being up all night taking call. Post-call sleep is the most refreshing because your body sorely needs it, is greedy for the rest, and thus you wake up refreshed, your mind clear of last night's clamor. I walk over and open the terrace door. A scent of wet earth is carried into the room. I love rain. There is something inherently, exquisitely beautiful about it. How it looks, how it sounds, how it changes the landscape in small footfalls of water. I don't know how to describe it. Sometimes it is enough to just sit and listen.