Saturday night the sky fell down over Berlin. Protected under the awning of a falafel place at Rosa-Luxemburger-Platz we watched the quite impressive natural spectacle. In front of us a wall of water and behind us the smell of oil and men sweat. Unable and somehow unwilling to leave this strange prison I became the secret voyeur and photographer of people running through the urban ocean. Electric lights reflecting infinite times in the falling drops and the thousands of puddles on the streets. Some questions kept me awake the rest of the night. Why did all the people passing by run as if they were running for their life? Why didn’t any of them just accepted the fact that they will become wet and walked around normally? Were they running to arrive at home as early as possible? Did they search for a safe place? Or were they just running because if it rains you have to run? Running in the rain: a rational or an emotional thing to do? A pleasure or a casualty? Are we trying to flee the wet mass, or are we enjoying it and hoping it will never end? Are we running in or from the rain? Sometimes there are no answers. You just have to wait! The rain is over and you go home as if nothing happened.
People running from/in the rain after the jump.
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