Before the rain, the day seemed like night in that small town in the backlands of Ceará. Everything darkened. It was two in the afternoon, and the children were playing euphorically at recess, some approaching me smiling and curious to see the photos I was taking with the camera I was carrying. The wind was blowing strongly, and I observed the spectacle that precedes the rain in the backlands with curiosity and great attention.

Many leaves fell from the trees, shaking exuberantly, making a sound reminiscent of rain but which was nothing more than leaves rustling against leaves. It seemed as if they came from the sky, some levitating across the yard, others rotating like spirals. One got tangled in my hair, another landed on the hand of a boy who was running and shouting wildly, playing with the wind, chasing after his friends like a bird.

The break was ending, the children had to return to their classrooms, and we, who were there working, hunting for photos that would make up an exhibition about the drought in the backlands, could hardly imagine that, in fact, the great element of that day would be the rain.

We had to go back to the van, but I didn't want to leave and be stuck in that typical suspense that precedes big shows. I wanted to see the rain in the backlands. I wasn't even prepared; I didn't have a raincoat or an umbrella, let alone a waterproof case, which would probably have been the most suitable thing for the situation, but I wanted to be there to take pictures. I hugged the camera to my chest and stood there, as if I didn't care.

The children went back to class, and most of the team I was working with returned to the van. Suddenly, the schoolyard was empty and silent. You could smell the rain in the air, as well as notice the sudden change in the light and the wind. It wouldn't be long before the rain started pouring down.

It happened in an instant. When the rain started to fall, the children ran out of the classrooms as if... I don't know, I was going to say "as if the world was going to end," but it was quite the opposite; it was as if the world was about to begin and they were going to watch the Big Bang from the schoolyard. I tried to find a similar situation to use as an example, but the truth is I've never seen anything like it. The greatest euphoria and joy I believe I've ever witnessed in a school.

Fully clothed, they ran out into the rain without a second thought. The playground turned into a water park, with children vying for space under the gutters where the rain streamed down like a waterfall from the sky. It was beautiful to see the girls and boys running around the school to take a shower in the rain. When I asked one of them if the teacher wouldn't be angry that they were all out of the classroom playing in the rain, he replied naturally that no, that when it rained, it was recess again.

I stayed at the school for the duration of the rain. I don't remember exactly, but I think it must have been about half an hour. Half an hour of the most intense rain I've ever seen. When the camera lens started to fog up, I got a little worried and stopped taking pictures. The children's energy, their ecstasy, the joy they expressed, transforming that moment into a great celebration of the rain, was one of the most beautiful things I've ever experienced.