A favorite place

From this place, I see the sky in all of its splendor. I see stripes of white across blue, and in the background, large fluffy clouds are exquisitely shaped. Further still,  the sky empties itself over the mountain.

A greyhound, attached to a lead, is walked by its owner. He is slightly stooped and wears a grey suit despite the Australian sun, which bites at this time of year. It’s Friday, and I imagine that he has had a difficult week. Or perhaps he  is always slightly hunched.

A person sits nearby, on a blue park bench, smoking a joint. Coughing from time to time, she stops to drink from an aluminum bottle. She looks over to me, she is curious. I start writing in my notebook, glancing at her, periodically. I forget about the clouds, which earlier had me captured in their beauty. I can’t write.

The woman stands up, and walks toward me, walking toward the rock that I sit on. A deliberate detour, I hope. As she passes, I smile at her. She smiles back, and continues on her way, slowly. I want to talk to her, call after her, but I am nervous, I find her attractive, and I don’t know if she is a lesbian.

Later, perched from above on this rock, I see her leaving the park. It is obvious, judging by the route she takes, that she was deliberate in coming closer to me. I kick myself for not having said anything, and return to admiring the sky.

The wind on my skin calms my mind. I had a lump in my throat when I arrived here, in this special place. My throat is relaxed now, and the clouds have completely changed shape.

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