Scratch
Here you will find older scratches, musings and other detritus that once were located on the front pages, but have now faded.
Filed away here to collect dust and cobwwwebs in perpetuity, links may break, facts may change and data may corrupt.
On occasion I may come down here to tidy, but for the most, I prefer to leave the past where it lies.
Summer
Rivulets of rain form running, cascading down the window, streaking through months, even years of grime. An incessant pitter patter, like a maddening, ever loudening, ever quickening metronome. Even if I could see through the window, or the rain beyond that, the shadow caused by the rain clouds means I can barely see the next building. It could almost be late in the evening for all I know.
The falling rain gives rise to steam. The streets seem transformed, as if twisted by some corruption at their very core. Wispy half seen clouds drift across every surface, altering and obscuring. A young girl shreaks as she dashes under cover, a newspaper held forlornly above her head like some latter day Canute trying to hold the tides back.
Still the pitter patter, pitter patter.
Yesterday, the heat was uncomfortable. Today the humidity is unbearable. In films people usually pause to wipe away the sweat with a small cloth, perhaps drinking slowly from a glass bottle, covered with condensate.
Life isn't like the films.
5 Jul 2006 21:53 | (0) comments | Things
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