It is raining in New York. I do not mind this weather. I do not mind the rain. I have chosen the words of Camus to sink myself into this Friday and use them as my umbrella
"New York rain is a rain of exile. Abundant, viscous and dense, it pours down tirelessly between the high cubes of cement into avenues plunged suddenly into the darkness of a well: ...you suddenly feel caught in a trap.... And the very smell of New York rain tracks you down in the heart of the most harmonious and familiar towns, to remind you there is at least one place of deliverance in the world, where you, together with a whole people and for as long as you want, can finally lose yourself forever."