I tried to get up earlier in the gloomy morning but the alarm clock did not co-operate with me. Amber rain thunderstorm lasted from mid-night though rainfall tuned milder. On the way to park no morning regulars were in sight in the rainy town. The park seemed to be all left to me when I was dashing to the basketball field in the rain. As expected the bench under the metal net canopy that I used to sit for painting was flooded with water, while the other two arrays next to it were not so wet. The falling rain told me that it was not wise to sit on the first bench, where rain drops kept sieving from above, and then I could chose one of the other two which were scarcely available during the normal mornings. I chose the bench at the far end because the viewing angle of canopy cluster looks better. After overlaying old newspaper and a sheet of white plastic on the wet bench, I started to paint joyfully in the absolute serenity. Facing the view composing with various types of element including organic and geometric, I consciously sketch the scenery guided by the elementary drawing theories, which I seemed to have discard by seducing too much nuisance aroused by the nosy people. While it was not long that the old guy, whom I did not expected on the rainy day, arrived to settle on the middle bench. His big buttock almost touched my umbrella, which I held in a slanting angle, when he bent down with his back to me. I intolerably yelled aloud with no response, and then I knew all I could do was to patiently wait for him to go before I could calm my temperament down and to finish the work quietly. Rain eventually stopped calling for park regulars to come, while I have lingered too long for the picture.


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