74 - FLEDGING
feeding and foraging
It is a house by a lake, a sort of cabin with large windows and light pouring in. From the inside, you can see trees and trees and a little trail. You can see the sky, and maybe birds darting from branch to berry. I keep coming back to this house when asked to go to a safe place.
In an unusual moment of stillness, we paused and noticed a line of ants go after a piece of fruit cake. In an unusual moment of stillness, I stood up to take close-ups, and watch before bidding them a soapy departure. I do not notice when the mosquitoes come for me, only the bumps and when I start to feel an itch around my neck, elbows, between my toes. I finish the black tea and piece of fruit cake. Since starting work, I have started to conceptualise the year in quarters and the first slice of 2024 has been chockfull: in March, I bought a new camera. Then because my computer was too old to be compatible with any accompanying software, I got a new laptop as well. The screen is oddly clear and my device feels like a discreet butler studying my habits to pre-empt any minor inconvenience. This discomfort I feel now, I know, will soon be replaced by an impatience if I have to wait a few seconds for something to load. It turns on automatically when I flip the cover open, the welcome display is a video of undulating hills. The apple salesperson, a friendly tech enthusiast proudly welcomed me into a new era, and then, Even if you don’t want to, the tech companies are going to keep going anyway. You know, capitalism. I settled for a refurb.
