resting

The morning distanced, a collection of shapes and sounds wavering in the ripples of an uneasy sleep, a sense of dislocation and distances. Outside, the rain's still pelting down, the wind risen, low clouds sprinting, while the central summits of the city are still lost above the blanketing greys. Watching the morning through the departing residue and fragments of the night, a couple of disappointing coffees and sit down to read some more, finding that it's impossible, that my brain won't fix upon the characters, the words scrambling nonsensical, alien shapes upon the page. Eventually the affirmation of caffeine calls the day to rise, addiction trumping aesthetics, as it must...


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aEkXet4WX_c


Late morning and the sky brightens, a temporary truce offering the chance to get out. A walk to a food place along the route of the mrt, the treat of a cinnamon bun on the way back as the sky darkens once again, the first spits falling as I wander back. The afternoon passes in constant rain, Bach and Beethoven filling the air with the sounds of memories, merging with the scent of pages turning and the view from the window, the clouds never quite rising above the architecture as the first lights begin appearing in the early evening, illuminating the clouds from within as the night falls, restless, upon the city.