It’s 5am and warm in bed.
Another 10 minutes.
The noise in the hotel corridor.
That’s rain. A lot of rain.
The drunk guys making snarky comments
As you head from the elevator to the door.
Within 100 yards you are soaked to the skin.
Another 100 and you are soaked to the bone. Smile.
And Run On.
The first deep puddle that drenches your left foot
And the right soon follows suit.
Squelch. Squerch. Splot.
And more of the same.
The harbour lights reflect in a complex dance on the rough marina bay.
Who thought that marble would be a good material to put around their building in a place where it rains like this?
Run On carefully.
Will the underpasses be flooded?
What a surprise they are dry. Perhaps I could wait for the rain to slow.
No, Run On.
The cars have all pulled over because they cannot see to drive.
Pull down the brim of your hat. Tilt your head forward and
Do I need to shower at the end?
Probably, but the clothes do not need a wash.
Just how wet was it?
My fingers are wrinkly.
Run On, my friends, Run On.
It seems to rain quite hard in Singapore.