Here’s what I love about this image:
Not the soft, poetic drizzle that makes city lights look romantic. No. This is the sudden kind. The sky-turns-to-grey-in-thirty-seconds kind. The kind that soaks through his jacket before he can even say “I should’ve brought an umbrella.” juan gotoh caught in the rain
He’s not ducking into a café or huddling under an awning. He’s just… standing there. Maybe on a corner in a city that isn’t his. Maybe outside a train station with a torn ticket in his pocket. Rain running down his glasses. Hair plastered to his forehead. Here’s what I love about this image: Not
And now—he’s caught in the rain.
Juan feels it.