Whether the weather

My moods depend heavily on the weather. The nature of the clouds, the colour of the sky, whether it's visible at all, the intensity of sunlight, the heaviness of rain or the speed and temperature of my dear friend, the wind. And when the moon makes an appearance during the day, I think myself blessed with a happiness reserved only for me. 

Overcast days tend to make me unstable. The ominousness of dense, low hanging clouds engulfing the entire horizon is very disturbing to me. I want to climb up and part the sky so I can see that friendly blue. But weather isn't something one should ever complain about. It is an ungrateful thing to do, I know. I have a friend who likes overcast days, he says it is good for taking walks in the city. He must have had an excellent weekend while I myself climb the walls I reckon.

And the birds. Of course. Always the birds. The hooting, the chirping, the shrieking and singing. The birds to me; are the voices of the mute earth and grass, the companions of the trees and the wind, they are signs of life. There are a lot of parrots here in Melbourne. Along with pigeons and ravens and sparrows and the abominable seagulls. A great many species of parrots. Pink and grey ones, white with yellow heads, green and blue and orange, red green blue and yellow. All kinds. 

And lastly, I attribute my moods to the strangers I pass by on the streets (when I have to venture far i.e. When going on placements). How many beggars I see, how many people in general, if the tram was crowded, if I managed to offer someone wizened my seat when it is necessary, if I was harassed at all by flyer givers, charity seekers, drunkards, if there were any children around. Good children make me smile.

That is enough.