At homogenized corporate office, a walk around the building to stretch my legs. To make it attractive to company tenants, the building owner arranged an artificial ‘park’ (I guess all parks are artificial – perhaps I’m just being snobbish here) between the buildings. Blast of Santa Ana winds woke me up to the physical world with something for four of the five senses – wind tossing my hair (worth the muss), a Swallowtail butterfly flitting about for food (does the word ‘flit’ appear in any other context than butterflies or metaphors about them?), water burbling into the pond (why does that sound have such an effect on the human brain?),  a soft pine scent from grabbing nearby needles as I passed. If it weren’t for a slight sadness at realizing no-one enjoys the grassy slope rimming the pond (Security would undoubtedly shoo them off), it was [attempt not to insert cliché here] invigorating.

Later that night walking the dog, the sounds and sights of a city putting itself to sleep. A dog at the screen door alert to our movement but deciding in the end not to bark. A mockingbird just – waking up? dreaming aloud? momentarily tossing out a few trills into the night sky. Sirius and Orion taking a dip into the sea. The conversational remnants of a friendly barbecue winding down. Someone vacuuming. The shuddering sigh of a bus easing around a corner. Palm trees dropping their fruits onto the grass – and then a car hood. The electronic chirp of someone locking their car.

At the end of my street it sometimes looks like this:

Georgia O’Keeffe: wave, night