Already that moment has been cast in narrative, packed with meanings I spouted spontaneously. I walked a straight road from Crystal Palace to Beckenham, tasting the rain and wondering why I drink anything else. Each car seemed to hesitate as it passed, considering offering rescue. But I refused even the rescue offered by telephone, denying my discomfort, needing to create a meaning that wasn’t negative.
These long walks are my adventures, rare pockets of pride in my memory. I will tell this story again, packing in new meanings, inventing new thoughts; but I will never forget the taste of rain.