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A Lungful of air with the scent of oncoming rain.
The creak of a rusty hinge echoing the rustling in the trees.
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The rain's arrived now. The plops started after a sudden gush or heightening of the scent of rain on the air. The end windows were still open so I got up. Though instead of closing them I chose to clean my teeth, the bitter sour taste was driving me mad after all that sugar. I then closed one of the end windows, the one that was only slightly open, then washed my face clean from the sweat building up due to the humidity and heat before finally closing the one that was wide open.The atmosphere seems to almost put me directly into the middle of Australia, Country NSW, looking out over the dusty farm in the late afternoon as the rains come in after a long hot day to make mud out of the dust. And the sky, that beautiful late afternoon shade of bluey grey, with that tiny tinge of green.Even the tin roofs, and what the rain will sound like when it begins to fall on the sheds. And I think I'm content... Even if I'm still here in suburbia...
I don't want to do this work I keep putting off. Instead I've been drawing angels into my notebook. It's not as though I've a particular affinity to them or anything, I'm not religious, I'm not that spiritual. I don't believe in them as spirits or guardian angels or the like, watching over me. I suppose they just look sweet, they've got little christian crosses as part of their halo and I'm an aethist, I doubt that they are significant in any way, they're just pencil marks.
