Even decades after arriving here, Autumns in Cape Town never cease to amaze me … they just have something about them, and no matter how many articles you may try to read or write about them, they are never enough to absorb all the nuances of this season or to express them all …

Just walking off to buy some milk at the local cafe, run by recently arrived Bangladeshis, is enough to rejoice in the beauty of the new Autumn.

How long did it take, to walk in that Splendour … five minutes there, five minutes back … and the few minutes in the shop … where as I buy I look up at their TV screen, to see if that artistic sub title script appears all the way from Bangla Desh?

The sky grabbed me, blue, so blue that it seemed to shimmer in its blue … !

Then the almost stillness, almost only because there was just enough of a breath, with an edge.

And morning shadows, in their own fresh black, but patient was the idea that struck me, soon enough they would be sun, sure and certain about that.

The informal security man at the cafe seemed relaxed enough, somewhere in the morning he had not bothered to button up his shirt properly.

And the cafe guy was on his phone again, as always, ambidextrous and smiling …

This time however none of those amazing subscripts on his wall flat TV screen, fonts from an Antiquity that we know little about two millennia plus of History and oceans in between.

Adapted from the forgotten time of the Buddha? The ones in Sri Lanka are curly and flowery, but they seem to have a common node before they evolved, one going for the rectilinear, the other for the flow, you never have to lift your hand off the media from start to end to complete an entire paragraph …

Walking back I kept looking up at the sky, filled with a myriad blue points, each point is its own significance, in the same way that we of a seven billion plus presence on the Planet are both significant in our micro and insignificant in the macro.

How such a short walk in the Grace of Autumn could fill me up with so much, it was only milk for my coffee that I was going out for.

And that crazy rock up there on the mountain overhead, that sticks out, a couple of tens of metres, so many that when you stand on it up there you wonder if it is indeed the same rock that thrusts with empty beneath it?

Bangla Desh is a long way from Cape Town, but in terms of human time scales versus the scale of the Planet, a mere triviality … for this crazy rock our time is no more than that of the trillionth ant that infinitesimally tickled its surface as it performed its significant micro in the insignificance of the macro … !

All these things, the philosophy and all of everything, however, seem meaningless in the timespace of a Moment …

Right now, why right now and for however other many instances of such right now occurrences, right now, in this beauty, is just enough …

 

The blue sphere above shimmers in pointillism

Morning shadows patiently await to shrink into afternoon sun

The breath of air has just enough edge on your cheek

Those crazy mountain rocks suspended in mid-air are indifferent

You can stare at them as much you like

They will stay silent and not tell you when their last fell down

Our time scale is beneath them, grass will grow into amazons before any significant fall

Pangea itself is almost not recognizable, inches and millimetres seem trivial, but wrapped in eons they are powerful

You cannot swim the oceans of this incrementalism

But all this is meaningless

Today the sun is a shimmering blue
            And the edge on your cheek, just enough …

Copyright Gabri Rigotti 2016

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