Inside the Rain Room

    The Rain Room has arrived and local art lovers are taking notice. Is it worth the wait? Yes, I assure you it is. Once inside, visitors find a long, dark room with a high ceiling. A single bright light shines through heavy rain falling around visitors. The mist. The damp air. The noise. It feels like a mighty storm is pouring down. But the storm is inside. And visitors aren't getting wet. Instead, visitors wander in awe, admiring the rain and the artists who created it.

    The Rain Room was created to highlight the connection between humans, nature and technology. With a tracking system that senses movement and stops the rain wherever visitors move, it does just that. Light and sound produce an experience that feels both natural and foreign. The exhibit is moving on to Atlanta next month. I urge you to visit before then. It's time to experience the Rain Room for yourself!

Welcome to the Rain Room

• The Rain Room features falling water. Please be aware you may get slightly wet. However, visitors wearing raincoats will be turned away.

• This exhibit features advanced technology. To ensure its effectiveness, please avoid wearing dark or reflective clothing.

• Visitors are welcome to take photographs of the exhibit.

• Children must be accompanied by an adult.

• For the convenience of all guests, visits are limited to 10 minutes.

It is hardly surprising that clothing manufacturers(生产商) follow certain uniform standards for different features of clothes. What seems strange, however, is that the standard used for women is the opposite of the one for men. Take a look at the way your clothes button. Men's clothes tend to button from the right, and women's from the left. Considering most of the world's population—men and women—are right-handed, the men's standard would appear to make more sense（更有道理） for women. So why do women's clothes button from the left?

    History really seems to matter here. Buttons first appeared only on the clothes of the rich in the 17th century, when rich women were dressed by servants. For the mostly right-handed servants, having women's shirts button from the left would be easier. On the other hand, having men's shirts button from the right made sense, too. Most men dressed themselves, and a sword（剑） drawn from the left with the right hand would be less likely to get caught in the shirt.

    Today women are seldom dressed by servants, but buttoning from the left is still the standard for them. Is it interesting? Actually, a standard, once it is set, resists change. At a time when all women's shirts buttoned from the left, it would have been risky for any single manufacturer to offer women's shirts that buttoned from the right. After all, women had grown so used to shirts which buttoned from the left and would have to develop new habits and skills to switch. Besides, some women might have found it socially awkward to appear in public wearing shirts that buttoned from the right, since anyone who noticed that would believe they were wearing men's shirts.

    Someone has put forward a dream home which is so advanced that its kitchen can suggest what to make with certain things. Also, a Microsoft home doesn't just warn you when you're out of milk—it can send you a fresh gallon.

    But are these innovations just magic, or are they really coming soon to a neighborhood near you? To find out, US News asked some experts to get their opinions about the home of the not-so-distant future. Here's a look at the innovations.

    The housing boom was marked by mass-produced buildings filled with units which look the same. The coming years, however, will give way to a personalized approach to home construction, with houses as more of an instrument of self-expression. "The successful builders will be the ones that figure out how to change their production model enough to make the buyers feel like they are really getting something that is designed for them, not just a model," says Kermit Baker, the chief economist at the American Institute of Architects.

    Future homes will probably shrink. "We will be building smaller but smarter houses," says Ed McMahon, a senior resident fellow at the Urban Land Institute. "Instead of having a room for just one use, consumers will demand homes that make better use of space," says Susanka, whose best-selling book, The Not So Big House, has become increasingly influential in home design. Seldom-used quarters, such as dining and living rooms, will be replaced with space that can serve both functions. "The goal of his 'right-size' home is to fit its owners like a specially cut suit rather than a jacket you buy in a store," says Susanka.

    In the future those who are taking care of old people may get help from the house itself.

    Over the last few years, new technology, such as the Internet, Wi-Fi and flat TV screens, has changed our homes and the way that we live. Now, another technology revolution is happening. A new project at the University of Hertfordshire wants to create a home that monitors people living in it who are elderly.

    The researchers have developed a wristband device（装置）which helps us to watch the elderly person who is wearing it. The device collects information to see if the person has fallen or has wandered away from where he or she should be.

    The assisted-living project is part of the university's wider Interhome project, which is the development of a smart house. The house remembers the habits of the person who lives there and it uses very low amounts of energy. The Interhome team hope that offering this service will help take care of the elderly. They say, "It's very important that these technologies are there to help and support and not replace any of the existing services."

    The Interhome is not just a research method. It's also a way for students from different scientific backgrounds to learn and develop technology. The university uses the latest technology to help students get experience by developing new hardware and software themselves. The team includes design, engineering and computer science students working together.

    "We are working on a smart-home project in Watford with some companies at the moment," says the project leader. "We are looking at how a smart home can provide even more services." This could help millions of old people around the world have a better and safer life in the future.

Grief ran through the first decade of my career. I photographed stories about terrible topics: immigration, conflict, war. On the cover of my notebook in 2019, I wrote, "Discover the joy again." It was intended to remind me to play more.

Sometimes I'd get a rare assignment where I could breathe — for example, photographing an article on tea for an airline magazine. I took the job hoping to make interesting, almost movie images, but at the end of the day, I found I'd made nothing of the sort. Packing up my camera, I felt like a failure.

On the drive back to the hotel, I noticed heavy steam rising from a building up ahead. Arriving at the scene, I opened the car door — and realized it was a tourist attraction traditionally pulled by a steam engine. Then, out of nowhere, a figure ran toward me. I picked up my camera and quickly made three pictures. One was out of focus. One was poorly composed. But one worked.

When I submitted my pictures to the editor for the tea article, this one wasn't chosen to be published, but I knew it meant something to me. I had been looking for good luck in my own life. This photograph symbolized exactly that.

I was 27 when I first traveled to India after the sudden passing of my father. Over many months, with my best friend, I traversed India with no phone, with limited Internet, and with healing as my compass. I climbed mountains, swam in the sea, and lived in relief entirely.

As I learned to travel to some of the world's cities with the largest population, I began to see life with more color and magic. I permitted myself to walk aimlessly, with no goal but to observe, and each moment became a dance. If this journey taught me anything, it's that what comes next will bring its own magic.

The year was 1937. I was seven years old. And I was with my father and mother, at a Chinese restaurant in Boro Park, Brooklyn. That was the first Chinese restaurant I ever ate at. I was always given food from the adults' orders.

I'm not sure when it was, but the time did come when I had my first order — Won-Ton soup, egg rolls and spare ribs. That made me excited. My father seemed to know the Chinese waiter, a young guy; his name was Jimmy. I remember being surprised that a Chinese man could have an American name.

Some months later, my father took me to a restaurant in Manhattan's Chinatown called The Rathskeller on Mott Street. This was my first time in Chinatown and I was very impressed by how different it was from Boro Park. We went there a few times. I just couldn't have enough of the food there.

In 1951, I was sent to work in the Hospital Treasurer's Office at Letterman Army Hospital. A colleague had an uncle who was a waiter at The Far East Cafe on Grant Avenue in the heart of San Francisco's Chinatown. Once a week, a group from the office would go there for lunch and my colleague's uncle would take good care of us. My favorite dish was Tomato Beef Chow Mein.

It wasn't until about 23 years later, in 1974, that I had my next serious relationship with the cuisine (菜肴) of China. I was lucky to take some cooking lessons provided by a famous Chinese restaurant's chef. Then my life entered a new phase (阶段). I didn't know it then, but some time later, it became clear to me that Chinese food would follow me through the days of my life.