Thursday, February 6, 2020

Suffocation

The sky is purple. It's gone from orange to pink through a number of muted violets in the last hour. The sun, a wild orange disc sat low on the horizon for an eternity. It reflected on the city buildings, giving them a glowing red edge, as if they were on fire on the outside.

The smoke haze was palpable today. It's come back yet again, like a bedraggled puppy looking for solace, trailing around in the background but far too wanting for attention that you can't help but give it your attention. You don't want to let it in, but its there.

This is the new norm. It's not what I signed up for.

At first, it wasn't so evident. It started out as a beautiful day, the type of summer days that you wish for. Blue skies, not too hot, slightly balmy, a gentle breeze. I made my way to Hawthorn to meet one of my old work husbands for a coffee. He's not working either. We sat at a cafe next to the train station and put the world to rights for near on two hours. I miss working with him. He's good value.

But the air quality became an issue. My lungs started filling with crap, my nose running, eyes stinging. Catarrh was forming in the back of my throat. There were some smokers sitting near us. As an ex-smoker for over a decade, my intolerance for passive smoking is limited. But it wasn't the smoke from the smokers which was upsetting me. It was the air quality.

 I'm healthy. I've been in the gym a lot over the last two months, but I'm feeling sluggish - like I can't get enough air in my lungs. Later, with my trainer at our session I was reticent to do too much cardio - my lungs aren't filling. There isn't enough oxygen.

I'm sucking on a ventolin as if it was an e-cigarette, but rather than looking for that instant gratification from nicotine or some cannabis derivation, I'm seeking the solace of air.

And this is the new norm. It's not what I signed up for.

I remember living in London, where you adapt to your environment. You get used to the silt in the kettle from the over-processed water. You know when you blow your nose, your snot will be streaked with soot. It was an inconvenient fact if life. You got used to the detritus.

But this is Australia. Overpopulation is not the issue yet. The fires, and climate change are the issues at hand. 

The red rain may return. I've washed my car, taking care of the last bout of dust and water and soot. I presume I will have to wash it again in the near future as another dust storm overtakes the city.

For now, for the next few days, there is the promise of smoke haze. I won't go outside the house without ventolin. I'll stay inside. I'll avoid exercising outside for extended periods.

And I will wish for the time when the air was clean and free from the particles of trees, and grasses, and animals and buildings and other unthinkable events which are circulating in the smoke.I think it's this fact which upsets me most - not the ongoing feeling of having your lungs in constant recovery. It's the fact that the air contains the last remnants of tangible things. It's upsetting. It's frighting. It's a constant reminder of the horrors of the last weeks.

And this is the new normal.

It's not what I signed up for.

My only consolation - I'm about to embark on writing a dystopian novel.

I don't have to look hard to find inspiration for my setting.



Today's Song:


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