There are those moments when a dirty rain soaked alley brings back a memory. Those dark corners of society that hold a rare moment for me at times and remind me of where I came from. Those alleys and that smell of rain opposing and embracing so confusing and all at once right. I don’t know why I care and I don’t know where my “morals” come from. I refuse to accept someone else’s fairytale. I get that I ramble and I am okay with that. I still love the smell of rain in an alley. It nails me down and keeps my thoughts right.