You have not had anything new here to read because I’ve not posted what I wrote or I’ve not written what I should. A variety of reasons exist for that, but they are my own. Here’s something to work out my cobwebs.
But not here. On richer streets in safer parts of the city lamps konk on and frizzle to life and bath the mown grass in mercury incandescence. Warm orange kitchen lights square up the near silhouette of cookie-cutter cut homes while the early rabbits hunker near holly bushes afraid to broach the open lawn. From higher places, places above neatly chimnied rooftops, the last red hope of day drops below the horizon leaving behind a withering orange band.
Inspired by some reading last night that only barely matched the final product of my further thoughts I intend to write thematically. It’s likely you’ll not notice.
Late morning light warmed the sunward side of the alley bazaar. Many of the fruitiers relocated their goods shadeward to keep them cool, but the gaps between stalls filled quickly and tight. So, most stacked their trays and crated their wares for tomorrow. Some few, with business elsewhere in the day were already gone. Indecisive patrons filled the vacancies; experienced patrons heard the tempo shift: hawkers entreated the crowd more aggressively, hagglers hushed to more forgiving tones.
In the time it took to drink a final jar of warm-tea selling ceased.