Languid Heat

When I first left, the air was still cool and fresh as dew on my skin. As the sun climbed languidly into the sky, the earth began to steam, slowly at first. I myself began to steam with the passing miles and the effort of climbing hills that I am not accustomed to. Soon my sweat and the earth's were the same, heavy and moist.

The air, which had started fragrant with the smell of a thousand flowers like an omnipresent perfume, blended with the smell of sweat and a mildew that is inescapable here. Although I came from an arid climate, my clothes already smell as if they have been damp for a long period of time, unable to fully dry out.

The birds that were so excited in pre-dawn in anticipation of the new day have settled into their quieter daytime routines,  their vocalizations less urgent.

I am less urgent too, enjoying a gentle breeze in the shade knowing full well that only steps away it is hot in the full sunlight.

Nothing is urgent here. Life moves slowly as if swimming in an ocean except the swimming is effortless and lazy, buoyed by saltwater.