Even the Rain Has Such Small Hands

2nd August 2021

Sometimes it’s not the grand landscapes or the perfect light that linger in the memory, but the quiet moments—the ones that slip in softly, almost unnoticed.

This image was taken during a heavy summer shower, where the lake surface became a canvas of tiny explosions—each raindrop its own ephemeral universe, arriving and vanishing in an instant. I kept thinking of e.e. cummings’s line: “even the rain has such small hands”—a reminder that tenderness can be found even in the impersonal thrum of weather.

It also brought to mind that haunting monologue from Rutger Hauer in Blade Runner: “All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.” The image felt like a visual echo of that sentiment. Fleeting. Fragile. Gone before you can quite grasp what it meant.

There’s a meditative beauty to watching rain fall on water—the rhythm, the randomness, the melancholy. It’s as if nature is whispering that nothing lasts, but everything matters while it does.