rainy childs

Berlin children are adorable when it rains. I came upon a flock of them, holding hands in pairs and stopped dead at a cobbled intersection wearing bright and varied rainslicks and little hoods. In the winter one sees them bundled in snowsuits, a hundred cossetted little snowmen. Their mamas and papas dress them in primary colours, bold patterns, polka dots. I drew myself and my wet bicycle relictantly away from the tiny plastic-coated crowd and found on the next street a tiny boy doused in yellow mackintosh and giant green boots, wheeling very carefully his wooden walk-bike through every single puddle.