Raindrops hit the windowsill wake me before the alarm clock. The wet precinct was brightly glowed by both the electric light of the office canopy and the reflection on the surface of the shallow water pools gathered on the ground, yet rear people were met. Entering the park, drizzles kept falling that I found neither the park regulars nor the birds along the shadowy pathway until I reached the cluster of the metal canopy. I overlaid the wet bench with old newspapers and a sheet of white plastic before starting to paint, meanwhile drizzles diminishing and day light was brightening. For the reason that the park regulars might not arrive to stay on the benches next to me, I chose to paint the half done picture, which has the view of the footbridge behind the highway depicted. Isolated whistles and chips of the bird dimly mingled with the chats of people on the pathway, while public transportations carried the workers to start their day’s work pulling on the highway. In the cool breeze, I enjoyed painting the frontal view under my umbrella, finding the bright hues applied, contracting beautifully to the mysterious atmosphere of the gloomy shadows on the foreground layer, which instantly vitalised the misty park with hope. And therefore, I never found it troublesome to work under my umbrella on rainy days, because the reward of peace and serenity deserved them all.


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