Right now, this is just the place we live and the place move within. A certain resignation, which perhaps stems from an inability to live with the crippling frustration at not being able to get anything achieved at anything like a normal pace, seems to colour our routines. And like all new school term participants we live with the phenomenon of the blocked pipe of time, which spurts and spits. In short, we are exhausted but know that things will settle down.
New dusty, spread city which begins to fit, piece by piece together, new sounds, which wake us in the night, disturbing, siren-esq ; new home, which settles under a fresh layer of yellow-brown dust each day while we work, new language which becomes familiar like a face caught in a crowd at times now â€“ lit on a homeward bound bus, caught in a telephone conversation