Softer, softer. Haziness prevails. Not a gleam. Nary a glint. Neon signs and traffic lights suddenly spun colourful candy floss haloes. Cars, condensation-matte, pass by with a muffled sssssssssslish, sending up a few hundred thousand more miniature droplets to hang suspended with the other umpty-billion cutting the visibility and seeping into your clothes. Rain in stealth mode. People loom out of the haze with unwittingly cinematic drama, fading in like the Death Star or horizon-breaching Lawrences of Arabia. A frozen Arabia.