It rained today.
I actually missed the rainstorm because I was in my office, but when I was leaving the reflection of light in the window caught my eye. The window looks out towards a courtyard surrounded by smooth brick walls, and clinging to the bricks were tiny droplets of water, bouncing light around like a dispersed kaleidoscope.
And it made me think about how we see the world.
The world we see and interact with seem so huge, so solid. Yet if water was really as slippery and formless as it seems, and bricks as smooth and uniform as they feel, then there is no way that water should be able to form itself into tiny spheres and cling to stone. Yet it does.
We see so little of how this world is actually made, never giving much though to the fact that "solid" is only an illusion, that everything is in fact made of minuscule quivering atoms with space between them.
I'm not sure I'm going anywhere with this, but now you know what I think about when I see rain on bricks.