It rains tonight again. I should do something about it. They say it’s beautiful, the sound of it, the smell, the touch. I can’t touch it in my room and no smell has reached me yet. And the sound? It makes me feel or think nothing but what the others feel or think. It is, at best, a background noise for my useless sounds to go with. What should I do, I ask myself. It’s raining outside and I feel nothing. But no, I do. I feel the depth of the others’ thoughts. I contemplate their emotions. Perhaps that’s what everyone feels. A drunken man once entered his lodging, mindlessly uttering some gibberish, and in the middle of all the nonsense, stating that the sound of rain made him feel such and such. And that had made the household think and realize that they felt that too, even though minutes before they’d only conceived rain as a sign to use umbrella, or whatever the people used in that time. And it spread from there. A new feeling was added to the world. The appreciation of rain. And in truth, what a magical feeling this rain gave!