I was walking up Kamloops Street in Vancouver heading south towards Jacinda’s place. I had dressed in fairly light clothing, stepped outside and realized i had to change, it was cold and rainy, pretty standard Vancouver weather. I was walking along holding my hood against my head so it wouldn’t blow off, and i was thinking about the storms i’d been in over the past 3 weeks. Storms that drenched you in minutes, this rain, this Vancouver rain is like long ineffective foreplay. These eastern storms, well, your body is warm enough to take them by the time they hit, the heat is wearing you down, serious heat, and then the sky turns the most remarkable colour, and then the wind blows harder, and the rain begins and then it pours sheets down on everyone, we huddle for shelter together, smiling at the craziness of the storms after the hot day, the intensity of them, a reminder of who’s in charge, we are collectivley humbled. Here, the seasons blur, its all terminally pleasant and unpleasant at the same time. The wateriness of this place has seeped in to the souls of its citizens making them wishy washy, comatosed and frustrated by passions that can never be consumated. We want things to be bolder, a passionate kiss, not one that took too long to happen, and when it did, it was too soft and kind of boring.