The sun climbs higher in the eastern sky. At this time of day, just after dawn, the air is silky and cool and my north facing terrace is the perfect place to watch the landscape brighten through pinks and golds. Later, the heat of the tropical sun will press down like an iron fist, flattening colours and creatures alike into the red dust, but for now there is a gentle peace.
Later, the heat of the tropical sun will press down like an iron fist, flattening colours and creatures alike into the red dust…
Small fishing boats begin to emerge out of the eastern sky, silhouettes sharp in the soft light. Their homemade engines putter downriver, merging with the chattering of the sparrows and the mournful cry of the Brahminy kite, high overhead.
I wonder at how little this scene must have changed over millennia. There is a modern bridge now and electric lights glitter in the dawn, but the folk here still build wooden houses out over the water, bedrooms on stilts where each night you are lulled to sleep by the sound of the river.
As the sky brightens, sounds drift up from the street below. Metal pots clang and women’s laughter suddenly fills the air as the tiny street cafe across the street opens for business. The first of the boat crews stop for breakfast, fragrant omelettes wrapped in a palm leaf or hot, sour salads.
I take a sip of my precious early morning coffee and contemplate the day ahead. Any moment now, the molten orb of the sun will rise into view along the eastern hills and I will be summoned from my roof top haven. Schedules, clocks, expectations and demands, the relentless melange of modern life heaves into view once more and I’m not sure I’m ready…
LIFE PART FIVE 