I lie awake and let the darkness wash around me, and the air is heavy with the weight of water and and something else that presses on my chest and makes it hard to breathe
I hear each tip and tap of water on the roof above me, and the cruder slap of drops on concrete ground far below, the sound of water breaking stone, of Earth redefining our longevity
I hold close the rhythmic drumming that will lull me, and the knowledge that, in the end, I will stay awake, listening, mesmerised, to a process so totally ordinary that I have never heard something so enchanting
I lie with my eyes closed and listen to Song of the Angel, which I love, but only in the dark, with rain, with the song of the angel resounding against the sound of the Earth.
By guest contributor Georgie Thorpe.