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The weather in my hometown is temperate. Sometimes I wonder if the town owns some sort of over-heard natural conditioner installed into it's atmosphere that helps stabilize her climate on default. It is never too good or too bad, it is just perfect. The sun rises just when it should and does not scorch the life out of our skins, neither does the rains fall out of season. Once in December, I had travelled on an errand to another town where it had rained on a Christmas day. Such can never happen in in my town.

I like to wake early to watch the sky in the mornings, it always appears different when watching from home, so peculiar, the slow separation of cloud sheets, the way the birds would sing like little church choristers, as if to eulogize the sacred ordinance of the breaking of daylight. The way the grasses, the leaves, the trees, all yield in uniformity to the demands of the breeze. All wriggling in submission, all swaying in submission.

I like to watch the people too, how they begin their mornings, their confident show of happy optimism for the new day. Their loud laughing, their louder greetings, their love for music; different sounds blaring into each other until they merge into one single vibrant jumble. One lyric playing three beats at once.

The people are admirable. A people full of the stubbornness of hope, curious for what next the Future would bring. A people never adamant to the dictates of change. A republic of flexible minds never shy to show their love for the new and for the foreign.