Eight or nine consecutive days of temperatures 45 C +. Today, grey skies.
9.25 a.m.
~
Nothing happens, until it does. No one goes, but they do. My mirror sings so heartbrokenly after sunset, its silver dreams frame miles and miles of distances. The impassive chair hasn't moved an inch the whole night. In this heat everyone wants a ride on my back so I step on an ant just in case. The light has unlocked a gate and my mind wanders freely. An excess of light breaks up any continuity: you think of a strip of shade under a step in the hundred acres of light; a single leaf that falls to the ground in front of you. A meal, an hour of sleep and forgetfulness. Wake up and start again (not so different from your life so far, you think). In a dream a single line of poetry from a book that has the colour and texture of the green bark of a young tree.
9.25 a.m.
~
Nothing happens, until it does. No one goes, but they do. My mirror sings so heartbrokenly after sunset, its silver dreams frame miles and miles of distances. The impassive chair hasn't moved an inch the whole night. In this heat everyone wants a ride on my back so I step on an ant just in case. The light has unlocked a gate and my mind wanders freely. An excess of light breaks up any continuity: you think of a strip of shade under a step in the hundred acres of light; a single leaf that falls to the ground in front of you. A meal, an hour of sleep and forgetfulness. Wake up and start again (not so different from your life so far, you think). In a dream a single line of poetry from a book that has the colour and texture of the green bark of a young tree.
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