Oh, sure, the arrival point isn’t wet, just overcast:
And it’s nice and dry inside the lighthouse:
Outside, however, is a different matter. Water and rain, rain and water:
I’m reminded of the song:
Last night the dealer offered me a new hand
Laid out so simply, thought I'd understand
With a different name, different face, different town, different place
In the same little world.
When there's nothing left to salvage
When losing it all doesn't mean a thing
I pray for the never ending rain
To wash it all away.
I set out on foot straight down the grade
Laying crumbs and seeds to mark the paths I'd laid
I found the northern lights, western shore, eastern front, southern cross
And soon I was home.
Every day I read the paper and I pray for the flood
But the rain always stops at the first sign of mud
I want to feel it all, feel it burn, watch it twist and feel it turn
And leave nothing behind.
(Steve Wynn - "Never Ending Rain")
The statue below reminds me of one of Doctor Who’s Weeping Angels, about to claim another victim: