before the storm

Waking up to the sound of rain, turning over, reluctant to look out of the window, making the wake up call behind closed curtains, senses aware of a chill in the air even in their disordered and dislocated state, one coffee later and then they're pretty certain of it. On the plus side the weather has stilled the sound of drills, only the sparse passing engines of cars and buses reaching my ears. Opening the curtains there's a lack of surprise as shades grey cloak the city, unbroken clouds stretching to what was the horizon, painting the skyline vague.

Last night catching up on the local news, the latest modifications to the restrictions; limited numbers allowed in the night markets, at tourist spots and parks, social distancing to be observed and masks compulsory on all public transport, the mrt running a reduced service as numbers have fallen by about 30% since the virus arrived. It all makes sense, even in the queue for masks by and large people are keeping their distance from eachother and so things continue...

Opening the computer I attempt some reading but can't concentrate, kaleidoscopic effects are intruding into my left eye, peripheral surfaces swirling and breaking up, wondering if my coffee has been laced with acid or if it's merely the early warning cry of a migraine approaching, preferring the former but reckoning that it's more likely the latter. And then the rain stops, an opportunity to go grab a bike and cycle to the supermarket, but it's not long before the shattered street begins to blur, soft focus vision forming, the first statement to self that this is, maybe, not such a good idea. But another hundred meters or so further comes the rain, large droplets, not heavy but there's half an hour or so to where I want to be and the traffic lights are now shining with a noticeable halo, stop, ditch the bike at the nearest stand and walk back, through the market looking for sushi and a photo for the day, as spiking shards pierce with flickering intensity from the low powered bulbs above the stalls.

Back at the flat, retreating to bed, hoping that darkness and rest will help. Come to a couple of hours later, someone having replaced my left eye with an ice cube, walk into the other room, look out the window at blue sky, a single trail of cloud hanging wispily above the slight distortions of the afternoon, cold light chilling, decide to head back to bed for another half hour. Three hours later, dark outside, air clear and sharp, lights visible on the hills beyond the center, still hazy, as if watching them through a light mist but the pain's almost gone..