Composed on my iPhone outside my front door, Wednesday night, 11:15pm.
In the dark, under the bridge, a country diesel train is sliding and grinding and throbbing through West Footscray rail yards. Small cars and trucks accelerate past my flat, taking the shortcut to Geelong Road. The occasional naked prime mover growls past but the midnight convoy of unladen container trays has not started. Every night they come. Returning from the dockyards. The empty trailers come smashing and crashing in an avalanche of sound, launching off the speed humps which are just metres from my front door. Apparently to slow down traffic. I chuckle at the absurdity.
I am sitting at my café table, nibbling and sipping. Everything is stained orange by the light of the street lamps. It washes over me accompanied by the continuous tyre hum from Geelong Road, maybe 10 metres above my head. And it is not unpleasant. The experience of sitting outside.
The sparrows stopped squabbling over a comfortable bush perch several hours ago. Even with the continuous traffic I can still hear a fruit bat quietly chattering nearby.
It is not the bush, it is not graveyard quiet, but I am lucky to be behind a wall of large bushes and small trees. I can watch the occasional cool breeze make the leaves shiver and wave.
And I can be distracted while typing this and for just a little while feel still.
Sent from my iPhone