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The instant the window is pushed open—crisp air, carrying the clarity of rain, brushes gently against the cheek. There is no earthy dampness, no clamor of grass, only a transparency and the tender woody afterglow. This is Vancouver after the rain.

It is neither the wildness of a forest downpour nor the delicate beauty of morning dew in a garden. Instead, it is the quietude by an urban window frame—a moment of stillness for conversing with oneself.