Reverie

Yesterday afternoon was so quiet. It was one of those damp British afternoons that everybody complains about, yet somehow there was a beauty all around that really moved me.

I took a quick break from quants revision, facing the blank wall and closing my eyes. It was a moment almost reminiscent of John Cage's infamous 4'33" as my aural senses adjusted to compensate for the lack of sight. My laptop whirred at one side, the sound soft and unobtrusive. I could feel the light and warmth of the desk lamp on the left half of my face, see the yellowness through my eyelids. Birds chirped intermittently outside on the trees of Whitworth Park Hall. Somewhere in the building, someone closed the front door of their flat. Amazingly there was no indication at all of the usual rock or techno music that faintly punctuates the air from neighbouring flats.

The light rain threw a distinct blueness to the subdued world outside, refreshingly lush compared to the perpetual grey of British wetness. In this hallowed place of incessant worldiness and careless thoughts it was a moment held in stillness. For the first time in more than four months, I felt truly alone. And it was divine.