“Raindrops suddenly began to fall, wetting the roofs of the huts. They fall regularly, like the weight of life or of time. On nights when it rained, I couldn't stop myself from listening to the sound, which kept me from sleeping. Insomnia, then eternal sleep--held apart from one by death and the other by life, brought closer to one by life and the other by death, and the rain, the rain, the rain, the rain. It rained on the day that my only son died.”
Book:Tokyo Ueno Station