tender complicity

I miss so much living in that remote country where you wake up to the sound of rain in the morning. I miss the tune of the monotonous anchorman in the background, reciting the news in a reassuring confident voice, safe in the background accompanying me through my daily routine, with familiarity and complicity at once. I love the dark mornings and spotty glass, where it is totally unknown what is coming next: winter fall or spring or summer, it is always the same shade. How I wish I could replicate this mood with the tunes of electronics and greyness of the shades and curtains?