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On a forty-degree day in Melbourne, Australia, the sun sweltered down, casting shadows of tall buildings that created a unique darkness within the city. No longer than a thirty-minute tram ride away to St Kilda, children could be seen playing in the ocean water with their families as couples strolled along the boardwalk, laughing as they enjoyed ice cream they had just bought at the market nearby. It felt almost like its own little world, far away from the relentless commotion of car horns and foot traffic that my family and I had just left behind. The small cottage houses and apartment buildings that we walked past on our way to our destination had a certain quaintness to them that I had never witnessed first-hand. Neighbours waved to each other as they went about their daily activities, and elderly couples smiled at us as they planted peonies near their front porches. The small town had entranced my brother so much so, that he had been left behind a block away, staring at the flowers that blossomed on the trees, lining the street in a colourful welcome. The beauty of the sites managed to entertain all of us as we retraced our steps to finally find him, and continue our uphill trek until we were met with a small sign, reading: ‘Rain Room’. My family and I followed the direction that the small arrow of the sign had pointed us in, clambering into a mysterious white elevator that took us to the roof of a seemingly ordinary office building. However, when the doors slid open, we were met with an entrancing view of the city. From up so high, it no longer felt like the overwhelming place we had found it to be. As we stood there, committing the details to memory, we were approached by an employee who kindly escorted us to the rest of our group that would be exploring the instillation with us. The inspiration of the rain room itself was explained, with the focus on ‘man’s increasing manipulation of nature’. However, as we entered, it was also encouraged that we interpreted our own meaning of the instillation. Immediately after entering, we were consumed by darkness. The only source of light was a single spotlight that outlined the synthetic rain as it fell from the panelled ceiling. We stood on the edges of the rainfall, listening to the peaceful sound of the water as it cascaded to the ground. We all began to walk with our hands ahead of us so as to prevent getting splashed. Every time that I took a step, the panel ahead of me would switch off, enclosing me in my own dry bubble. I tried to search for a new meaning in the contrast of the industrial exterior and the man made rain, perhaps some sort of comment on human consumption of nature. However, as I took a second to look around and see families holding hands, friends laughing and siblings pushing each other into the rain too quickly for the panels above to switch off, drenching them completely, I was able to find what it truly meant to me. The Rain Room wasn’t just a piece of art work to comment on nature, it was a place for loved ones to gather and explore and enjoy each other’s company away from the world that could become overwhelming. The walls of water that enclosed us kept us together, bonding us in a unique way. To me, it represented a meaning I didn’t expect to find: the way in which no matter the environment, natural or man-made, we are all looking for our own little piece of solace from the craziness of the world.