#tiffersat

[riseandwild]

The trees in Fort Kochi are like something from a fairytale, towering elders thriving with life. The sun rises and with the light they glow evergreen.

[riseandwild]

He walked by, ball in one hand and pup by his side, making his way to the grassland. I waved from my window, at my neighbour whose name I’ve never known despite many a hello as we’ve crossed paths outside our homes. He was bleary eyed and hair a mess, nodding to my equally silent, just-woken-up call, and raised a coffee-stained mug as though toasting to the morning.

[riseandwild]

Driving home under a ball of fire, red, hanging low in the sky amidst an outline of unclimbed hilltops. Dusk is setting in and wind, with hint of evening’s chill, whistles in through the open window. I race the fading light along Snake Pass.

[riseandwild]

In the window between night and morning, I wake from slumber. Drawn curtains illuminate dawn, the trees outside still silent from birdsong. Neighbours’ kettles not yet boiled, except, I expect, for the man at 56 coming home from an evening security shift, brew the taste of Yorkshire tea leaves along my tongue. From where I write, I lie, cocooned in freshly changed bedsheets, awake before a world made up on Vale Street.

[riseandwild]

Headlights on I pulled away from my parents drive to make the hour journey home, a route I knew better than the back of my hand. Still, I put the sat nav on, a familiar voice to keep company between singing along to the radio. The roads were quiet for the time of night and the lanes were mine to meander. ‘At the end of the road, turn left’ she said, in her mechanical, navigational tongue. I turned right, following the roads I knew best and had driven a hundred times. ‘At the roundabout, make a u-turn’; she was insistent to my ignorance. A lane closure, another reroute, a red set of traffic lights which had me waiting for forever; I never thought about taking up Google’s alternative trip. Half way across a roundabout at a cross-roads out of town, everything turned slow-mo. Matthew Perryman Jones’ voice became a deep drawl playing through the stereo, my hands tightening the wheel as a car to my right came crashing into the drivers side of my sweet Ethel Blue. There was stillness, for a second, after my head bounced back from the impact against the window. Then came shouting, and those quiet streets were filled by men running into the road. I climbed out of the passenger door, mine jammed closed, and thought… Should have listened to the universe.

[riseandwild]

The sweet exhale of a stranger's cigarette met my nostrils somewhere between the streets of Tottenham Court Road station.   

[riseandwild]

Umbrellas colour damp seats of a morning commute, stark in contrast to an otherwise bleak view through the grubby train window. Leaving suburbs behind, we're quickly met by a city sky line, grey against grey. Inside the carriage strangers avoid meeting others' gazes with averted vision; raised iPhones from which white cables tangle against business ties, the metro paper or protective handbags provide entertainment; conversations wholly one sided between man and his technology.

[riseandwild]

The kettle whistles against the soft hiss of a heated flame. With suddy fingers, I reach across the kitchen from the washing up bowl and turn off the gas. The house is awake with morning. The steam meets the contrast of a cold, glass window, hazing the view of Autumning trees to the back of the house. Bare toes against a naked stone floor delight in a pool of splashed-over sink water and I quickly realise; Summer is out and September upon us.