By amigoponc on Skatehive
From Zinc to Wood and The Acoustics of Rain As I write these lines, my window in Ontario shows me a static, white landscape. It is the middle of winter, and here the water falls in the form of silence, heh heh heh; that is, in the form of snow. However, Silver Bloggers' invitation to talk about a rainy afternoon has activated my auditory memory, transporting me to a time when falling water had rhythm and percussion. My relationship with rain is long-standing and deep. If I close my eyes, I can go back to the 1960s in Venezuela. I was a child seeking refuge under the bed, not out of fear, but out of fascination. Our house had a zinc roof, and when the sky opened up, it literally became an orchestra of metallic drums. It was my private concert. Years later, progress brought the ‘platabanda’ (concrete roof), and with it, silence, as the rain no longer sounded inside the house; it became a distant visual event, isolated by the cement. But life, in its wonderful twists and turns, brought me