The rain comes down, deep sheets of water transforming earth and air into a world I can swim through: streets running rivers of life, winds rippling with ionic charge. The heavens and oceans are one out there.

From this perch in the upper studio, I can see far beyond the window panes, across the darkness of the San Francisco Bay to the liquid wavering of civilization's pinpoints in the east. It all just keeps standing in the endless falls of transfiguring, cleansing washes of sky. Everything continues on as the cycle returns again and again.

Layered on it all is my reflection in the glass. Glowing LEDs, black and white keys, luminous LCDs, grids of buttons and lights, green and amber mixed with the scent of teak and joyous data throughput. Machines singing to each other and singing with me. Snapping fingers, vibrating air, inner ear conduction.

Sonic worlds in motion.

I have missed this so much.

A spare six weeks into the collective year and I've found my current. As an individual who has joined the collective, the time between the communal annum roll and my own solar rotation of 365.25 days is always one of looking, listening, gathering, re-experiencing, deciding.

In 18 days I will complete this passage around our star.

In 18 days I will continue in downpour, in rain, as the cycle returns again.