Home to If I Had A Minute To Spare Towers

I kid because I love. But in this case I’m not kidding. I do live in a tower, a twenty storey high tower pitched between what seems like a thousand other twenty storey high towers. Although mine is made from concrete, steel, and glass, not ivory. This may or may not be a good thing.

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After a long summer away in Ireland, myself, Herself, and +1 have returned to our perch overlooking the ever present traffic which persists along that big long avenue that runs through Yeongtong-dong which I have no idea of the name.

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We have been told we have missed the worst of the heat, and we can well believe it as a cool breeze is now flowing through our apartment. Outside the weather is balmy indeed, with only the strong afternoon sun in our eyes to bother us as we stroll around.

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This evening, the first of September, the sky was truly clear for the first time as the sun encroached on the horizon of high-rise to our west. Bright, it turned the walls of the other apartments closest to us pink from white in its glow. All else which felled a shadow was black in its own silhouette from the departing evening. As it darkened more, all those shadows tuned to dusk, street lights came on as pin-pricks of fluorescent light, and the sky streaked with a brushstroke of cloud was layered in a peach kind of pink and a typical sky blue.

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It is home, I suppose.

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