The rain comes, and suddenly, I’m home. I’m sitting in the kitchen with my mother, watching her caramelize onions in the pan. I’m taking a walk with an old friend, arms linked, footsteps in time to an old pop song. A pale colorless film drapes from the sky to the crowded city below my feet, but as always, the statuette is perpetually drenched in an eye-catching shower of glitter and dust.