Approaching, vacant, too early maybe. Lock the bike to a railing, still summer warm in short sleeves. Luminant green, grass with a hint of yellow from the vibrance. A soft spot to sit so pleasant. Soft pulling give in, lay down, absorb sounds without a corresponding visual. Drifting. Feeling time ripple, the passage sometimes quickly, others slower than measurable. Faint fluttering glow through closed eyelids, distant voices approaching, laughing. Gently poking prodding till my eyes open. The simple small parts, delicately important to me.