What funny weather this place has, so unlike back home, where it'd be crisp with crunchy fallen leaves on the ground. No, here it has been pouring rain and really warm. Even muggy today, but no rain.
I went down the hill to get some coffee, and everything felt close as I waited for the bus. I didn't want to walk the extra four blocks up the hill because I had over-dressed, was carrying an un-needed umbrella and the bag of coffee, and the pockets of my (unnecessary) jacket were bulging with my phone, wallet, keys. When I got off the bus and walked up the spiral approach to the pedestrian bridge, I felt relieved, as if I'd shed some stifling layers of clothing. I had this thought of the cars and buildings down by the cafe being the things that I was wearing like uncomfortable garments. I must be spending too much quiet time alone.
On the other hand, I think this period of unemployment - in a new city where I haven't established social ties with anyone - is also good. All of that silence and solitude opens up space for reflection and noticing. Things like the late afternoon sunlight coming through an unseen window in the main library, like an odd yellow spotlight. I go to it like an insect and it flashes in my eyes. I actually enjoy the afterimage, even though it blurs the names of the books on the shelf nearby. I realize I can wait for it to fade, I have time, I don't have to be anywhere. I can just slowly walk through the stacks, look up at this strange building, so unlike the solid little old library back home. This building is - hollow. I mean, all buildings are hollow, but this one has an empty center, like a stack of glass donuts. It's kind of nice the way sunlight can go all the way down to the lower level by the cafe.