Clouds pockmarked, riddled with holes like doors from bullets fired from tommies in some old gangster film, smoky, hazy and still lukewarm, hanging limp against a restless mauve sky.

Looking through a clumsy telescope of circled fingers held tight against the eye, I target constellations hurling teardrops that splash against concrete.

Evenings set in too early, but I climb the highest building to watch the last wisp of light, gleam and then doused out by the blue above the ants on the horizon.

Orange juice and a jar of jam, a half-finished packet of biscuits were all I could salvage from the shelf in the kitchen; Truly, these buildings look so magical from down below, a bowlfull of brick and cement, frothed, stirred and beaten to elephantine proportions - and to be on it, it just makes me feel tall.

And today - today of all days - I'm here, as the sun sets. Eyes bared wide, red for my reluctance to blink, and in a wink it's gone. In a wink it's dark. At least it was here. Where were you?