t-t-talk about the weather…

The fog this morning could have come straight out of a Berkeley wall, obscuring anything farther away than a block or so. It was lovely and soft, muting the traffic down to a low hush of wheels on barely damp pavement. By the time I’d got to campus, it had retreated leaving a hint of wispyness off to the horizon and wet brickwork. When I went out for coffee, it went back to the standard, Pacific Northwest “mist with a mission”. Panicky people drag out their umbrellas at the first sign of this type of precipitation, everyone else keeps walking.
It’s weather like this that I can close my eyes and almost feel myself get a little unstuck from time, walking in a forest of old-growth trees and animals unaware that I am or could ever possibly be a threat. Between the smell of the rain and the emptiness of the campus, I get lost.
Except for the votive mocha in my hand. Except for the backhoe digging to unearth a labyrinth of piping for one maintenance project or another.
I turn the music on my discman up, turning my attention away from the weather and back into the Brazilian electronica swinging deep rhythms from another season. My steps lock to the beat as I take the stairs to the building. Nothing in there but work, nothing but the music keeping me going.
Same as it ever was.

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