An old cassette tape, when the light catches it handsomely it looks silvered and bronzed like a monument with little dates of significance.
The time is half-past-something or a quarter too, and the day really doesn’t care for its name.
Then I recall Septembers, that this September; the breeze has been as gentle and warm as breath exchanging from lovers in loose conversation.
Randomly, I feel a surge of discomfort within the thought of the inability to appreciate anything, while I continuously slip comfortably into taking average daily life for granted.
Three army helicopters throb, thunderously overhead. They pass in a mini apocalypse parade; for a moment the suburb is drowned with the sound of their rota-blades, the atmosphere feels as if it’s expanding in its protestation.
The air chooses to relax; dropping its noisy luggage, only to float upon its regular self, I notice from beyond my open window, two female voices; unexplainably but noticeably middle-aged, and motherly, using vocabulary that only just resembles my native tongue. I think perhaps that I’ve momentarily forgotten to understand my language.