Drenched in Orange

Kero One - Bossa Soundcheck

Summer heat is incredibly unpleasant sometimes. However, the evil has a kind of decorum, which is extremely admirable until, of course, your threshold wears thin.

As you can imagine, the form of summer heat skews the brain and starts to play tricks on you. The straight heat of Australia, for example, for me, just feels like a solid slab of rusty corrugated iron. The rust seemingly grinding at your skin as you wade through the sand of a firey beach. The Malaysian heat brings with it a kind of tropical aroma; beautiful colours amidst a mish-mash of exotic food flavours and car smog (and a lot of other things which are undesirable).

The Japan heat is something of a different monster altogether. Although it will never achieve the top world rankings of Dubai or Morroco, say, the 90% humidity in some areas are like thick clouds of heavy, invisible mist that wear your body down with beautiful subtlety. 27-35 degrees celsius is nothing in Australia, so going out midday seems like an easy task at first, especially when coupled with the serene peacefulness of a general public Japanese space. Without realising, your legs will buckle, the breathing becomes heavier and the sweat magically appears adding more weight to the already crushing pressure. It's as if the monster grew freakishly ghoulish hairs right before your very eyes beyond the horizon; its spindly legs dancing in front of you in a devilish dance of ugly defiance. Its smells come alive as it marks its territory over your now withered confidence.