The air is full of misty rain which has covered the dereks, the three new buildings at various stages of construction and the concrete fence surrounding the vast earth-dug site.
The sound of the swish of tyres on asphalt through the open balcony door is all the sound there is, except for the idiot drilling in the wall in the flat above. I'll go up shortly to terminate him.
The ecologically sound lamp in the living room gives a sulphur yellow glow to an already golden parquet floor and I sit adjacent, typing this to you.
At least I was.
Actually, I've just skipped onto the balcony and the scene below is pure cityscape and yet I recall it twelve years ago here - the edge of geography, the new housing area with the road petering out into a sand dune which ran down to the river.
Now they call it the
Do you hunger for rain as I do? All my bitter-sweet moments were in such rain - I don't know, it stirs something inside and helps one forget.
I wish there were a pub somewhere within walking distance.