Breakfast View

I got coffee, at the risk of waking the house up.

I'm sitting on the veranda overlooking the rain forest just in front of me. It is still, early. I could reach out and touch the trees between my fingertips. It is beautiful, a cacophony of green. The frogs, I think, are croaking, me from the city and all. There is a lot of bug noise anyway, over yonder... like ringing bells. The birds are singing. They are, kind of, chattering like monkeys. Although, some birds call with a beautiful whistle, some squeak, some squark, some sound like a drop of water falling. I'm waiting for the giant lizard to crawl onto the veranda and demand her maggots, with trepidation. Nobody else is awake. Will she eat me? It is beautiful here. Lush. Remote. Wet in the air. Vividly green. It smells like a river bank. Mossy tree roots, dissolving. Bracken. A carpet of leaves and twigs, damp, soft, like wool slippers. There is mist on the furthest mountain tops, floating above the tree tops.

It is wild and tamed, where urbanisation meets the wilderness, the very edges of each.

A gentle breeze blows.

We sat up until very late playing Ono. The more pot we smoked, the more stoned we got, the more vicious we got toward each other.