‘Tis the season to be plucking dead leaves from your geraniums. Watering. Humming a mindless tune. Perhaps sipping on a gin and tonic or a summery Lambrusco. Studying your across-the-street neighbor’s bizarre activities. Watching the parking police hand out fines like they were going out of style. Feeling slightly smug and homey. Studying the clouds rolling in or, alternatively, the depths of the electric blue arching overhead.
‘Tis the season for being lazy. For doing nought. For storing up thoughts and philosophies. ‘Tis the season for soaking up the city. Being one with its endlessly entertaining texture and vibe. But be warned: as invisible as you may feel, if you are on your balcony looking at the world, the world is probably from some some well-hidden position looking at you. Or the relentless sun has aimed its damaging rays your way. In any case, you may want to consider doing as some Italians do and hang your green protective curtain. But then again, what’s the point of hanging out, when you’re more or less closed in?
NOTE: In Italy, when someone is stoned or incredibly spacey, it is said that they are fuori come un balcone. “Out, like a balcony.” I’ve always liked that one.