Snapshots With Words

Some might call this evening in the mountains boring, quiet or slow.  For me the opposite is true.  Each sound is so loud it almost hurts my ears: The river rushing relentlessly past, with no break in the momentum; small creatures of the night declaring their existence, and the occasional far off motorized vehicle making its way home or to the gas station for a pack of cigarettes.  From our 8th floor balcony I can hear the occasional family as they walk, bike or drive back to the hotel from town. Summer evenings are enchanted.  The world is at rest, happy and content, with no deadlines or places to be for several hours at least. The river is a paradox of racing, rushing fervor and soothing sounds that have the ability to lull one to sleep.  An organized frenzy of activity that, when observed from a distance creates a sense of peace and clarity.  We can suddenly see the big picture; we know the direction of the current.  And it will continue on to its destination without our help

I sit in the candlelight on a mild summer evening, the sounds of neighbours mingling with the farther off noise of  sporadic traffic on the nighttime streets. The German conversation drifts in amidst laughter while the neighbor below is watching some type of African television show from his home. A slug near my elbow startled me, and I watched him crawl around the candle lantern and slowly and painstakingly off of the table. To think this all began because the cat Misty and I spotted a moth inside the apartment and this was my master plan to lure him back outside where he belongs.