The colors outside have been replaced by a whitish grayish soup. Some little specs have survived and glow tiny down in the street. A trash truck just drove by and made ship sounds. The rain is heavy this morning. The street is a shaky blackish mirror. The cars move on their own reflections. There, a flash and a thunder and more of the Rauschen, which somehow says it better than gray noise. This will be a very busy morning, a very busy day, a very busy rest of the week.