A rainy day in town, droplets falling onto the pale pavements of the dreaded city. One foot outside, it felt as if my blood had frozen. Half a body, my veins stopped pulsing. Lastly, the whole body, just like my heart stopped working because of the coldness of the rain. As I walked, I was greeted by the heavy sound of the rain falling onto my umbrella, and then later dripping down its sides. The cold weather, the icy rain water, and the wet street - perfect day for little kids. Kids all sprinted outside, jumping in every puddle there is, while ignoring their parents’ call for stop. As I walked, the day seemed longer and longer, like a never-ending and dreadful dream. I held out my hands, letting the rain fall on it more, just to see how the droplets splash into little pieces as they fall onto my already frozen palm. I kept watching, the rain droplets falling like Olympic water divers, barely making any waves, but the splash is still strong. Then I began scanning for other features: falling postures, how they hit the ground, my umbrella, the plants… As I watched, the rain droplets began their “ballet”, they splashed in big waves or just single droplets, some cling onto leaves of trees, and some joined the puddle. As I watched, the art of rain watching began to interest me more and more, and changed my mind of rainy days. Rain watching is some true art.