| it reminded me of waking up in rome when it was so hot we couldnt unstick ourselves from the bedsheets. the room was full of flies from the citrus trees in the courtyard that had flown in through the ten foot tall windows we kept open overnight to allow air to circulate. i remember thinking at the time there was nothing much to say, but we had felt compelled to speak anyway. there had been nothing much else to do, and in any case, it had felt as though moving about might have lessened the chance of a fleeting breeze hitting us through the window. we lay perfectly still. of course there would be no breeze, only what had felt like a heavy cloud of sweet-smelling hot air. there were no flies this time but there might as well have been. |
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