the first summer rains lashed out hard on lahore. i love the view from my window; of glistening tarmac under the yellow streetlamps, of brave aunties jaunting about at 10 pm. the chorus of frogs and crickets from the nearby flooded park make their way through the dead water cooler and into my bedroom. i enter the kitchen and am met with the scent of wet bark, rushing in through an open door.

after a monsoon spell, everything goes quiet. we play audience to nature's musical.