The cheering of crickets in the crowded heat of the early afternoon heralds an inevitable evening. There was something uncanny about the fading midday heat that gave rise to a kind of claustrophobic tranquillity wherein movement was slow, heavy, when movement was visible at all. Every sound was distant, muffled, perhaps smothered by the thickness of the heat.
Humidity restricts and binds, it clings where it can and drips when it can’t: it is like waterboarding with air that cannot be breathed yet you do not suffocate. It is everywhere that breezes and air-conditioners are not. It is not only all around you, it is all over you and even in you; a rapist penetrating every pore and every breath, a foggy, nightmarish enemy. There is no getting used to it, but like the skin we are in we are compelled to tolerate it’s indelicate touch. I think we will stay at home tonight!
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