Up at 4:30 am, I left home a little before 6:00 this morning, wearing a suit and trench coat (argh!), a briefcase at arm’s length (argh again) and my thoughts distant and sweet. A thick winter fog bank blanketed the desert dark streets and muffled the sound of my hurried footsteps.
My first stop, ritualistic and yet meaningless, was the coffee shop. Coffee, I had had already, and a very good one; an Italian espresso blend brought all the way back from South Africa and brewed in my little Bialetti stove top. But the coffee shop serves more than a needed drink, it serves as a launching pad for the day, a place warm and cozy where thoughts are gathered and spirits lifted, where a deep breath is taken when time cannot be.
Like the most daringly thin skyscraper, a day is built from the ground up and at 6:15 in an armchair, watching through a smoking coffee others sketching their day’s architecture – or failing to do so – I like to lay a few bricks of my own and dream of what will be.
Many pictures are coming this way. I’m sorting through hundreds of files, selecting and deleting as I go. It’s a complicated matter and emotions get in the way. Crappy shots are often kept for sentimental reasons. The pile stays high and later I have to get the machete out again and start over…
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, a distraction, a hobby. The larger bricks, and the wilder dreams, I can’t even talk about. They lay in a dimension beyond decent blogging, classified Top-Secret and Eyes Only, and only when the wind of time has blown long and hard will I eventually add them to my daily chatter.
In the meantime, life is sweet and sour.