[Miscellany]
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
In which she watches from above
This is a contemplative moment while sitting on the balcony high above the world and listening to the wind blow deep hums through the gaps in the powerlines. Despite the movement in the air there is a feeling of deep calm that has settled over the town. Perhaps it's the warm weather, making everything drowsy.
I silently watch the deep suntan of the distant mountains peek through the buildings as the wind tosses my hair into my eyes so I have to stop writing and pull it back behind my ears. It smells like rain.
Overhead a helicopter circles and I glare at it with curiosity. The whole scene reminds me that something is always stirring beneath even the most serene moments. Nothing is ever really what it seems, is it?
The wind picks up and the gentle hum turns into a meanacing growl. The powerlines shake dangerously and clang against one another.
Suddenly there is an accident down on the street below. A bingle. A stocky man emerges from his white pick up truck and points a finger dangerously close to the shoulder of a younger, taller bloke. They begin a macho dance. One points, the other yells. The yeller points the pointer yells. Around they go again, in what is from this distant viewpoint, a silent pantomime.
I wonder about them, about the wind, the copter, the traffic and the faint smell of rain hanging in the air. I wonder how thoughts about everything and everybody else around me always seems more urgent than thoughts about myself. Sometimes I only think I exist in a capacity for others and rarely for just me. My life has never been entirely vapid and self absorbed but it has ...stilled to accommodate everything else that always seems to be going on instead - too many people needing me, sometimes badly, sometimes sprinkled with manipulation, always urgently. I put me on the backburner a long time ago. I watch from my balcony at all the things happening. Never the right time for me to climb down.
A bird lands on the powerline. Our gazes meet and she tweets before flying off. As for thoughts about him. Forget it.
I silently watch the deep suntan of the distant mountains peek through the buildings as the wind tosses my hair into my eyes so I have to stop writing and pull it back behind my ears. It smells like rain.
Overhead a helicopter circles and I glare at it with curiosity. The whole scene reminds me that something is always stirring beneath even the most serene moments. Nothing is ever really what it seems, is it?
The wind picks up and the gentle hum turns into a meanacing growl. The powerlines shake dangerously and clang against one another.
Suddenly there is an accident down on the street below. A bingle. A stocky man emerges from his white pick up truck and points a finger dangerously close to the shoulder of a younger, taller bloke. They begin a macho dance. One points, the other yells. The yeller points the pointer yells. Around they go again, in what is from this distant viewpoint, a silent pantomime.
I wonder about them, about the wind, the copter, the traffic and the faint smell of rain hanging in the air. I wonder how thoughts about everything and everybody else around me always seems more urgent than thoughts about myself. Sometimes I only think I exist in a capacity for others and rarely for just me. My life has never been entirely vapid and self absorbed but it has ...stilled to accommodate everything else that always seems to be going on instead - too many people needing me, sometimes badly, sometimes sprinkled with manipulation, always urgently. I put me on the backburner a long time ago. I watch from my balcony at all the things happening. Never the right time for me to climb down.
A bird lands on the powerline. Our gazes meet and she tweets before flying off. As for thoughts about him. Forget it.
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