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.