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It has been blistering hot for a month, and today fissures in the wave are starting to show. The humidity is mounting, the clouds clamber on top on one another, bringing the ceiling down around our ears, pressing.

It is as though everyone, and everything, knows the storm is coming, even the forest. We are all caught in that uncomfortable and cramped space inbetween. The leaves are turning up, showing their pale and vulnerable side, the flowers are half closed, ghostly pastels. It is as though the very essence of the trees and the forest has buried down, leaving only shadows to weather the storm. It is eerie and pale and your eyes are confused and upset.

Everyone is irritable, it is too muggy and oppressive to work, too cold to sit still, between being able to complain about the heat or revel in the rain. My back aches tight and swollen like a wooden doorjam, and the air is so this it feels as though breathing isn't necessary, and osmosis should work.

The cracks and fissures are growing, spreading, weighing down, splitting. It's close.