The trees are drunk on wind and murderous intent.
Twigs, branches, and logs bow down to Mother Nature in snaps as she wails on. Her cries, not unlike that of a banshee, is heard, felt, by all.
A storm laps at Sydney’s feet, and not even the hardiest Sheltas or Fultons can survive it. Requiescat in pace, Umbrellas I and II, my ones and only.
I sit in my study, squirming in hopes of eking out some warmth from between my layers of newfound winter fat. I shall scoop Mowgli the cat into my laps, my trusty provider of warmth, I think, licking my cold-chapped lips.
Despite Mother Nature’s tantrum, I feel a sort of peace that I’ve not felt in quite some time. Today, I am almost certain that I passed my first technical exam of the year with the richest of flying colours — I knew the answers. I think everybody did too.
Today, I kissed Mowgli on the head and he purred a purr of content, acknowledging receipt of my love for His Furriness. Today, I sung to ‘Tengo’ (‘I Hold’) by Argentinean pop star Macaco without stumbling over my Spanish like fallen Jenga. Which was usually the case.
Today, I held the hand of a mutual admirer, and for once it felt just right.
And, using the dregs of my phone credit, I discussed the (non-)crisis of masculinities in the Arabic world with an old friend.
Today, Bondi Beach is closed on account of winter’s imminence and her intoxicated winds, but I find there are always avenues for enjoyment besides those celebrated by the masses. I only hope that I will always realise this: that if I let it, I should find solace in solitude, scintillations in darkness, understanding in blinding chaos.
To do on the next stormy evening: create a website for Mowgli.