Sunday

Day two in the park, Sunday.

Checkered green shorts, white singlet. The sun is incredibly warm - without the regular humidity of summer. So very pleasant. Though I do feel sorry for the other park goers having to shield their poor retinas from my neon white anglo-saxon skin. The sky is completely cloudless, the moon is still out at 11:30am. A percussion band begins it's beats in the rotunda and capoweira follows in front of me.

Earthy smells of grass whip around on the breeze; sneaky scents of BBQ rissoles making me hungry.

I lie with my jumper over my face, the sun soaking deep into my bones when I hear a "well hello!" the voice of the Knight. The funniest thing is that five minutes before he came over I knew he would. I'm not sure whether that was simply wishful thinking or whether I'm tuning in to his vibes. But it was nice, organic. We sat for another few hours, soaking up the warmth, marvelling at the 'winter' and talking universe.