And seasons change.

Blue sky highlighted by strips of high cloud, the heat already in the air when the first basic functions of the brain begin to become available, the say flickering into existence around me. Another espresso morning interspersed with the making of a dal and the frustrations of slow progress. Outside the heat's rising, reflecting from the pavement as it soaks the streets through the light haze, distances shimmering as they dissipate.

Lost upon small road and winding, once again, through unknown sections of town, looking for the river but finding myself on the wrong side of the wall, cycling the wrong way up a main road as I look for an exit, for an entry, for any oncoming traffic. Finally finding a gateway to the river, recognising the nearest bridge, realising that I'd cycled in the opposite direction to that which I'd thought. Through what, by the residual smell, was a morning fish market hiding from the sun until I reach the cycle path, realising that I'd forgotten to bring water and hoping that there's a vending machine close by to quench the rising thirst.


There's a breeze from the water, warm but enough to take the edge off the afternoon heat as I cycle into it, fishermen are spread along the banks where steps lead down to the waters edge. As I continue along the route I see gatherings beneath bridges and in sheltered spots, prone figures stretch out upon benches their possessions gathered beneath and spread around them. The other side of the city, distanced from the construction of shiny new tower blocks, weaving between cars which could house and feed the ragged and weary shapes, the ostentatious wealth on display clashing against the images which linger around the periphery, recorded as mere abstractions and statistics upon the spread sheet of capitalism. 



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=626pNZB8xXE