Beyond the known world, in the rain scattered lightly

It might be in the rain that comes scattered lightly at moments and at others full, direct, as if in a linear flow, or in the sun that is known by absence these autumn days. Or in chatter among strangers on the crowded morning train. Or in multi-colored balloons strung along a café facade in the rue Daguerre, a man with a camera taking the scene in a photograph as dusk approaches in that unknown moment of not-day, not-night. Or it might be now, the words appearing, shaped and woven in a new form of unidentified origin: a sentence.
It’s all unknown.
On the program from a marvelous play « seen » last night, « Les Naufragés du Fol Espoir » by Ariane Mnouchkine and the Théâtre du Soleil, there is this:
« De l’inconnu
Où l’on découvre que c’est au-delà du monde connu que nos voyageurs découvrent les commencements de l’humanité. »
(Or: The Unknown: In which we discover that it’s beyond the known world that our voyagers discover the beginnings of humanity.)
In other words, we find who we really are in « the unknown. »
And what’s « the unknown »? It might be in the rain that comes scattered lightly or…