It's June. The rainy season has just stopped and technically everything has just been restarted as the holiday is just over and people are just returning to work again.
But.
Days feel like dragging on. Silence is hanging heavy in the air, as if moving in slow motion, blanketing everything around me. Time feels like suspended in the air. Unwilling to leave the damp rainy seasons and greet the dry season.
Like me.
Unwilling to embrace the necessity, the factuality, the inevitability of change and the turning around of the earth. Trapped in a bubble of uncertainty, suspended in reluctant inertia of life and faith.
Such as the case of the end of June.
It is the beginning of a season, the beginning of everything, but God does it feels like a slow journey toward an end.
It feels like the final part of the song when the chorus is exhausted and overused and started to lose its meaning. When the life of the song slowly diminishing through a weak of repeated lines, over and over until the emotion that fuels their life is running out and echoes are all that's left.
That's how June ends.
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