Momentarily.

So, what of my surroundings? I am sat in the garden, wood pigeons coo like feathered bellows in the trees. The sound of cars, playing their part, following the twists and turns of evening’s road. I can just about make out the radio, dissecting the day in politics. A chainsaw in the far distance is momentarily mistaken for a vexed insect, much closer than i’d like. The dog patrols the boundary line, everything is as it should be.