  The darkening sky has me sitting beneath the help of artificial lights this afternoon.  Keeping warm with my collection of latin music,
 mainly this hour:  El Conejo with this sweet young boy hollering the lyrics:  Ay vnse preparando Ay vnse preparando Que el conejo ha de salir Bo aquo allue el conejo ha de salir Ay vnse preparando Ay vnse preparando Que el conejo ha de salir Bo aquue bo allue el conejo ha de salir Como que te va te va Como que te viene viene Como con tu lindo abrazo Vlme d que este si es dolor Arrulladito me tienes Como que te vas te vas Como que te vienes vienes Como que tu lindo abrazo Bo aquo allrrulladito me tienes I dont know something about a rabbit.
 Any excuse to get cozy in soft cashmere and my waterproof brown and black Clarks is bueno with me.  I plan a walk in the downpour once in arrives.  Maybe drive to a park where the colours will saturate better than this dusty construction zone of balding chaparral.  I love the smell of rain.  When I was young,  my now deceased grandmother could smell the ozone right before it came down.
 It was like watching a seer,  her signal in a smile to us that the thirst for rain was over.  I miss her.  The rain reminds me.  Rain,  misty eyes,  passionate songs of a world once- removed from mine its just one of those days,  I suppose.  Days I appreciate,  extended moments of connectedness enhanced by atmosphere more lasting than usual.  Children playing outside on Canvas Street,  the one not yet built on.  Parents standing by with remote controllers in their hands queued up to high speed cars that whine as they reach speeds of over 40mph,
 the children playfully trying to outrun them.  Hispanic folks who could be my neighbours for all I know.  Im blessed to live here among a native population of another culture.  Im suddenly nostalgic for the backstreets of Mazatlan.  For the sometimes nauseating smells of the markets,  weaving through the aisles of freshly killed game and the vibrant colours of produce.
 Nostalgia for a sensory assault of another world.  I must meet Bryan to make the day a public experience,  a shared experience.  Its not everyday I lust for reentrance into the public sphere,  hear the call to indulge in the natural environment.  If only Id driven up to Julian to appreciate the storm up there,  with my parents,  safely inside their spacious new home with great windows looking out into the hills and horizon.
