Listening to the rain slowly start its pattering, one, and then another until the night was filled with a steady rhythm broken by occasional thunder in the distance. Half awake I dream of childhood memories of the spring thunderstorms in Nebraska. Dreams of the cool breeze that would blow in through my open window as the smell of the air changed with the rains arrival. Calmed by the storm, sleep overtakes me. Morning: light starts filling the room and birds in the courtyard start singing. I climb out of the bed and stand looking out the window to the wet rooftops. Birds of all shapes and sound dart between the buildings. Rows of them cling to wires in nervous formation. A damp wetness covers everything and I only hear birds and dripping water. Kathmandu, Nepal