Did you ever sit, those rainy Sunday afternoons of your childhood and look out of your bedroom window as the rain poured down, trapping you indoors?
The raindrops combined to form rivulets that cut a path down the windowpane. You'd watch, hypnotised by the repetitive jerky dance of each drop as it followed the route taken by those that fell before, by the sound of rain as it hit the leaves of the trees that enclosed the garden.
Your breath would condense on the cold glass, clouding your entertainment, so you'd clear the mist with the sleeve of your jumper and resume the watch through a streaked and fluffy window; a cold, damp sleeve providing only the slightest distraction from your intense concentration.
Looking at the larger drops as they are suspended, defying gravity, you notice the distorted world contained within and try to relate the curves and colours to your own world. You wonder what it's like in droplet world... most probably wet, I should think.
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