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Petersburg in the rain looks like an Island, majestic and gray-haired, washed by an ocean of water falling from the sky in an endless stream. Rain verticals cut through the cliffs of houses, cut off layers of facades and colonnades from them, bring down and carry away into the gray shroud of the Gulf of Finland. Canals overflow their banks, flooding pavement stones, washing away the white lines of roads and the red plumes of cars. It is impossible to hide from this rain, you can only dissolve in it, become a part of it, stepping without looking back into this Rain City.