Spring

The snow is melting and I definitely hear birds now and then. People at the underground are talking about babies and redecorating their houses. I like it, it’s reassuring in its mundanity. The almost-absence of cold is snapping its way through me, there really is something animating about spring. During the winter I stay inside to keep warm, to look out of the window, inside my own head. That’s what winter is all about; hibernating. Something almost palpable is crawling back into me now, something real, and I quite like it.

Some days ago the cat threw up in my bed, close to my ear. Although this was, of course, not a very pleasant way to wake up, I discovered it was raining outside, just a little, and I discovered too that I had missed the sound and smell of rain in the dark.