in the red hammock of my backyard. the edges of wireless connection, the invisible tether. not even 10 am and so hot already– the seedlings have sprouted in the garden in less than a week. i love my hammock. primal comfort, the gentle sway that soothes the troubled child quelled deep inside. if everyone spent ten minutes every day in a hammock (weather allowing) i think there would be a lot less stress in this city. i know people go to yoga, but listen! a hammock! the child pose without sweating or wearing stretchy synthetic yoga clothes!

a transparent green insect, the size of an aphid, is traversing my forearm. long antennae and two little green prongs on its lower thorax, now it’s traversing my keyboard.

my neighbours have a house they keep extending outward into their backyard. the house grows and grows but it still cannot contain the family’s anger. they fight and fight, their voices spilling from open windows. when we eat our dinner on the balcony our food is seasoned with their bitterness. maybe they need a hammock….