It's sunset.
Typing is harder than
No...Everything is
Boy it's one of those
Presence.
The sound of a train, an airplane, the music, the bell of the train arriving in the station. The music of a friend playing on Spotify, the sound of a car passing by. The sound of a car in the distance. Music a block away, a chicken, a dog. People singing in Spanish. Creak of the sing, the wind in the trees, the wind chimes, dog yelping, cooing pigeons. I heard my kid tumble and tell the smart speaker he was sad, my wife comfort him and quietly chuckle. Some shuffling around in there, low murmur of their voices. More wind and cars and creaks and chimes.
There are a lot of sounds.
I feel the breeze. I feel some pain in my thumb. I feel discomfort where there's a bandaid on my finger. I feel the seams of my pants and the texture of the couch. I feel the box that holds up my legs under my right calf, and I feel my right shin under my left calf.
I hear my kid ask "Alexa, what's a hypernova" and I hear people singing and another train and all the things I heard before are still there. And I hear the murmur of Alexa's answer.
I smell something savory. Not quite wood smoke, but reminiscent of that. Oh. No, it is wood smoke I smell. I wonder where that's from.
I can hear and feel and see many things at once, but I can only handle one smell at a time.
I noticed when we returned home from our travels. Oh, I feel the tension in my fingers as I type...the slight discomfort of holding them at an awkward angle, as I put weight on the front of the laptop so it stays still, the feel of the board under my wrists. I feel my ankle crack.
I noticed when we returned home from our travels that there was a smell to our home I didn't much like. The smell of cat urine, faintly. But after just a day at home, I could no longer detect it. Even thinking "It must be there" I could not get my nose to notice it.
The sun is really gone now.
Sunsets here are blue into orange. So much less of the reds than I think of for sunsets. Not enough clouds I suppose to scatter the light into the red of the spectrum.