It was raining cats and dogs south of Motovun. There were heavy clouds high above Rakotole. They were connected to the hilly ridge by many long, gray lines. Pushed by the northerly wind, the lines moved southward. The spectacle was quite enticing from my sunlit terrace, and I kept watching it for a long while. But then I saw something special: one of the clouds dried up, and the long, gray line detached from it. Flat at the top, the line got shorter and shorter, until it merged with the ridge. But the speed with which the top of the line moved downwards was truly amazing: it descended slowly, very slowly. This was yesterday morning, but I am still enchanted by the slowness of the rain at the distance of a few kilometers. In my mind’s eye, that slow movement simply refuses to go away.