Hoi hoi Chère E.,
Being Dutch, I love the rain when it pours into the North Sea. I admit you’ve won me over.
Your lovely write softens my heart and the more than lovely artwork does the rest.
Please, keep them coming!
Kind regards, Gus

Sir, as Autumn sheds its leaves, metallic golds an’ brass will live their last before collection, storage in bins, bags or covered heaps. Here an’ there working their best in the dark but – preparing to light another season’s spirit and – soul-like soil! 🙂

I used to love to play out in the rain when I was a child. I must still be, because I still love rain and will walk very slowly through it when I go to my car from my house or vice-versa.
Is it God crying? I doubt it…He is probably dousing us with it to cleanse our hearts and souls.
Nice write, em.
j.

Brought me memories of the sound of rain on a tin roof at our old house, and the smell of petrichor. A wonderful write! “)

Many, many thank yous, M.E! Enjoy your happiness.

Very pretty, romantic words. Thanks, Emma.

Don’t look at the past as ‘wasted’. Brought to your island shore and very far more look back at it as beautiful. Bravo!

It does sound like a town that has been forgotten. You described it well, so sad.

I lived there for 17 years. But had to move, the police moved out and glitches moved in. They set up tents and overtook the place.
j.

Powerfully penned, Tim. Incredible write my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian