I'm up on the nineteenth storey, and looking out my window this evening allows me to gaze upon the glinting lights of other buildings flickering through the rain. There's a metal canopy above my window, which is open to let in a cool breeze, and as the drops fall against it they strike out a staccato rhythm.
The darkness is punctuated by flashes of lightning, thunderclaps add a rumbling bass to the rainstorm's song. This is my favourite sort of weather sometimes, full of bright lights, irregular and changing songs, and layers of subtle scents.
I stare out my window, coffee cup clutched in my hand, taking it all in; this is my nightly show here in Singapore.