Egret

Through the window the sight of the morning forming through shafts of rain spearing from dark clouds and rebounding from the streets below as if making fun of the sheltering umbrellas moving through the downpour. Another morning of reading and cleaning, drinking too much coffee and wishing that I could remember how to use the rice cooker, that it would be a good day to make some dal, restless, watching and waiting in the hope that the weather clears up.

In the early afternoon there's a break in the clouds, escaping the flat and setting off for an hours wander, finding that I'm carrying a sense of detachment as the streets pass by until I find myself chased back towards the flat by the resurgent clattering around me. Finding my mood changed, I decide upon a soundtrack of news bites as the cleaning continues; jaw slackened in the ongoing bewilderment at what's happening – the resurrection and the second coming of De Piffle Paffle as a symbol of hope and leadership. It sets me to wondering whether Drumpf has just set such a low bar that even the most transparent bullshitters have an, almost, free reign to spout inanities and half truths. That, purely on the basis that they're not Drumpf, they find themselves reconstructed as competent statesmanlike figures, their ineptitude forgotten, washed away by the tides of relief. I notice that my favourite quote of last week has been lost in the fallout of the bleach speech. Where, in an interview, the Lieutenant Governor of Texas pointed out, “There are more important things than living...”

Nightfall brings a blanket of deep blues and purples cosseting the cracked skies, broken clouds rising higher into air cleared by another day of rain. Across the city the lights are once again, sharpened, sparkling upon the dimming hills to the north.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MO_Xxq3LVw