This afternoon

Today I want to write about this afternoon.

The kind of afternoon which comes about only between the winter and the spring. The kind of afternoon when the sun borders on being too strong and yet is missed dearly when one escapes into the shade. The afternoon which burns the cheeks incessantly and yet comes with a sense of relief and pleasure.

This afternoon I sit with my left cheek turned towards the sun. The head tilted to one side to avoid looking the sun in the eye. This is the kind of afternoon built for dreaming about Africa and Jaipur and journeys and landcapes and authors and books and incidents far far away.

The afternoon made for sitting amongst grass and twigs and yellow buds about to unfurl into unruly maroon flowers. The kind of afternoon which just for today, is perfect, for dreaming and day dreaming and imagining words and worlds.

As I sit with my left cheek turned towards the sun, I am satiated and happy, with just this one afternoon.