It was glorious walking to work this morning in the rain with my umbrella, where the last few mornings I was dripping with sweat from the heat by the time I got to my office.
The city looked incredible from my 32nd story window, it seemed like I was above the clouds looking down on them filling the gaps between the buildings below me.
It's rainy grey. The low slung clouds, the mist, float through the city buildings like smoke from a far off fire. Drifting. And it is a fire, the fires of the earth, heat meeting cold, high meeting low, the scorched earth of the last few days being doused and wet, steaming in response, with today’s rain. It's like dragons are hiding down every gutter, exhaling furiously. Brown and grey is their breath in the horizontal sheets of morning sun; smoke stacks amongst the skyscrapers, hidden in every shadow, around every corner. Clouds of puff sitting suspended in mid air, breaking into fingers, feeling their way around the mortar, and strands, hanging from every gargoyle and bauble. Labyrinths of metal and glass standing like sentries side by side, steaming.
The morning clouds drifted out from the buildings to the bay, suddenly, seemingly in wafts, where they disappeared. Blown away by the cool of the sea? Nothing to impede their going, nothing to stop the gusts behind them, sending them back upwards to where they belong. Up, up to meet the blue once again.
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