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July 23, 2023

everything else: july

dear internet,

i open my windows to the rippling of birdsong. some days i open it to a baby’s crying, and some days to the club down the road playing dancing queen, and some days to my neighbours hanging laundry, and some days to the smell of stale beer, stale pee, a sense of aftermath. july should be like this: grey skies, cold rain. season of maggi with amul cheese grated into it, powercuts in the middle of the movie, illicit spoonfuls of raspberry sorbet, splash of rainwater up my shins. at the botanical garden last week everything was in bloom, the greenhouse was warm and lush and twining. we saw black flowers textured like velvet, and about twenty different kinds of mint, and the tiny venus flytraps in their enclosure, mouths open. on bad days my teeth hurt and things fall through my fingers onto the kitchen floor but on good days it feels like i’m midway through a long conversation with the people i love.

love,
t

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