The promise of rain, while heat and humidity finding some mechanism to allow them to rise further. The sky's a threat hanging over the city, a challenge to begin anything outdoors or removed, far, from a shelter. A classic Sunday, sitting sipping on some slow coffee and catching up with the news, aspects of Friday night spilling over, a sense of memories gathering, swirling unsettled as words rise and fall just out of focus. An intrusion of politics, policies revealed upon newsprint, recorded messages leaked and hinted at, fault lines widening between reality and propaganda while frauds and charlatans crawl towards the poisoned chalice of their promised land. But distances and time zones bring distortions and delay.

Back in the city there's something odd about the air today, it's not raining but it looks as if it is or should be, as if the level of humidity is such that there's a suspension of liquid hanging breathless, the weight of water pulling the sky down while, on the street, bodies seem to be being pulled through incremental increases in gravity as we wait for the storm to arrive.

Setting off towards the Eco park for a short walk, stepping into an immediate downpour, scurrying for shelter, watching as bikes gather around an old woman waiting out the worst of the rain, changing into waterproofs in the shelter beneath the mrt, headlights reflecting upon the surface of the road, small streams flowing towards gutters, the sky darkening, shining grey.

Later, from the window, the lights of the city caught as if in amber upon containing clouds, bright pools within distortions glowing brown against the darkened recesses of night, the dulled and dim glare still awaiting the clarity of rain.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=upb2m2JTGGA