Rain doesn’t come to Sin City real often, and when it does, it’s usually pretty lame stuff. Warm as sweat and lucky if it gets to the pavement before it evaporates.
But maybe twice a year, the desert sky really coughs it up and spits it out. A cold, mean torrent that turns the streets to glass and chills you to the bone.
Most people hate the rain when it’s nasty like this. But me, I love it. It helps me think.
I’m not real smart, but I feel a whole lot smarter when everything goes slick and everybody skitters off the streets and gets out of my way.
I love the rain. I love the icy way it creeps down my neck. The way the air goes electric and everything seems so clear.
You breath in and your nostrils work.
That’s what I do. I breathe and I just let my feet take we wherever they want.
And I think.
-Frank Miller’s Sin City – Chapter 1 – Episode Eleven