A/N: I’m obsessed with the Circadian cycle, because I am so clearly in defiance of it.
My body clock is irreparably damaged.
First is the peal of a temple bell
bold and brassy against the daylight
the old, old sound of mixed feelings
and the ringing vibration of human longing.
Second is the paper-walla
a knight on his wheeled steed
trailing a crisp scent of newsprint behind him
flinging up the news to fourth floor balconies.
Third is Mother Dairy
attracting crowds of half-asleep people
rumpled and self-conscious in their pyjamas
clutching their milk cans defensively.
Fourth are schoolchildren
sulky, half-asleep, scrubbed clean
hoisting their heavy school bags
waiting where the doorstep meets the road.
Fifth is me, falling in love with the world despite knowing better.