The cheap sparkling wine (which I always call champagne despite knowing its not) tastes horrible in my mouth. But its become my ritual to drink some every evening as the sun sets.

Tonight’s glass has four blueberries bobbing in it. They’re coated in little bubbles. So pretty and delicate. My glass resembles a lava lamp – mesmerizing to watch – the dark blue orbs magnified by the liquid and the glass.

Billie the cat is up on the railing, her head turned left watching something, most likely a bird, in that intent, focused way a cat watches something. Cockatoos screech overhead. Billie’s ears twitch and her head swings around.

I’m in love with the sunset. Tonight it’s delicate, very pale pink, almost white, a long thin grey cloud hangs above the horizon. The solar lights come on as the sun dips and its as if one light has dimmed, and another has flicked on.

Cicadas thrum. The smell of mosquito repellant makes me think of summer and my throat constricts with a longing for happy times. Warm, carefree days. The cicadas are loud now, the humming is shrill.