clearing up

the end of what's felt at points like a fairly odd week, one where the detachment of the island has felt like a vivid sore as we watched the world churn with what feels like hope. of course, looking west, the tory deplorables continue to live down to, indeed descend below, expectations. you have to wonder how long the charade can continue...

here the humidity is lifting real feel ten degrees above the thermometer, which is telling us that it's 35 degrees, the air clogged and heavy with moisture and pollution. 

early afternoon the clouds return bringing a sudden cool breeze and then, quickly, lashing the streets with rain; the stage darkening the next three hours filled with amazing pyrotechnic displays and explosions;  percussion and crashing cymbals forming a soundtrack to the quite incredible storm which consumes the world. The city and the hills flashing into sporadic existance, fading and returning as the day moves, unnoticed other than upon the clock, towards nightfall...