I want to tell you about heat. Relentless, intense, scorching heat. It makes a person feel differently about the world somehow. Every day, we wake up to a movement in the air that feels like a relief. Not because it is cool, but because it carries hope that cool may return some day. The air that rolls towards us is already warm in the early morning, but it is not yet as hot as it will be later. We open the blinds and windows to let in whatever freshness this day brings, and in just an hour or two those same blinds will be closed against the sun’s brightness. At around that time, the air will become still and begin to hold onto the heat, which grows throughout the afternoon into a sort of furnace that dissipates only in the middle of the coming night.

This kind of heat dictates our days. The mornings is the only time one feels like doing anything that requires movement or energy. This is not a time for sleeping, the feeling of wasting precious hours of bearable temperatures is too great. Later, the house will be closed up against the onslaught of heat, fans whirring, air-conditioners chugging in their effort to keep us cool. Any outings leave us sweating, breathing shallow breaths against the hot air, moving as quickly as possible from one air-conditioned space to another, stealth-agents in a world humming with heat waves. Continue reading ...