Dear Sinister. I don’t know, maybe it’s the heat. Last night something changed – and it feels like it changed suddenly and abruptly. The days have been hot for quite a while (the days have been sunny almost forever) but the nights were cool. Last night came and the temperature didn’t fall, and that fact alone seems to have brought along a new state of existence. It has to do with the air being so warm you notice its presence all over you body all the time. You fall asleep and wake up and walk around surround by warm air. At first the change is upsetting, you’re robbed of your right to wrap up in your sheets and sleep safely; and this constant awareness is, if not anything else, unsettling. It urges people towards their holidays, towards beaches and islands or, sometimes, foreign lands; and all the other things we do to celebrate summer or get away from it. It changes the way people live next to each other too. Everyone keeps their windows open all the time, and suddenly you have to –and it is considered normal and okay to – put up with everyone’s gossip, random conversations, arguments, screaming children, awful music choices and tv noises. This is constant too. At night you hear snoring and coughing and my neighbours can probably hear Stuart sing ‘I fought in a war’ right now. I’d say it was all this that brought the changes, if the changes hadn’t brought themselves along earlier. I saw them in the ways things happened, in the faces people made and the words they used. (Most of them didn’t see it though). And now the feeling that things are changing to become more true to themselves (to look more like what the way they really are deep down) is everywhere. People get sadder and happier and crazier at the same time, because that’s what they really are. And then the first wave of heat died down, and in the few hours before the next one comes, the city air smells wonderful and sweet like nothing but making love in your daydreams. It’s almost rewarding for the fact that I’ll be in a hyperactive mood (so much it almost hurts) for ages. But then in less than four weeks I’ll get away from the Greek summer. I’ll blissfully go and get rained on in London and other places, in another world. And while I’m there that world will feel almost complete. (Complete, not perfect). But then so does this one. In my language, it’s called gravity: it keeps you in place, prevents you from flying and makes reality as concrete, tangible and dominant as it is. And when I add the two worlds I exist in, instead of two halves that make a whole I get something like six quarters. And it still doesn’t look like it should. Ah, well, keep the faith… Dimitra xx _________________________________________________________________ Send and receive Hotmail on your mobile device: http://mobile.msn.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+