The golden lump of fire melts into the horizon. The skies turn amber, then crimson, then from a merlot to black. I cannot see any of this, I just know that it is happening. I have seen nothing but dark for one year now and although I have lost my sight, I still have vision.
The birds leave their musical posts on the stage and the stations are quickly taken up by frogs and crickets who immediately start tuning their instruments as an ensemble would before a philharmonic orchestra would play a new set.
I hear a small click from the timer in a nearby transformer box as the street lights start to liven. The stars begin to flicker and give the matt black sky a light gloss.
The air turns chilly and the cold starts to bite my exposed cheeks. The wind gently breezes through the leaves of a tree close to me.
The air has a different taste now that the flowers have gone to sleep and the evening dew has started to form on the grass.
In the distance a dog barks its greeting to a passer by and another howls from the opposite side of the street. A plane flies overhead. Perhaps coming into land at the airport close by. Perhaps bringing weary travellers home and delivering them safely into the arms of their loving families, already huddled and waiting in the arrivals terminal.
I fluff open a blanket and wrap it around my shoulders as I sit down on the garden bench. I am enjoying the start of the night too much to go inside just yet.
The blanket is scratchy on my neck, but I pull it up non the less and form it into a hoodie over my head. I know that the mozzies will soon be out for their feast. Just five minutes more I tell myself.
In the main road I hear the roar of cars engines and the occasional scratching of brake pads as they bite the discs, sometimes a little to hard. There is also the screams of a siren from far. I wonder if it is a fire truck going to fight blazing flames somewhere or that of an ambulance carrying a bleeding and traumatised passenger to a hospital to save their life. Maybe it is a police car responding to a crime in progress. I do not know the difference between the sirens used by these people, but non are good sounds to hear. My speculation fades as I decide to go indoors.
I feel my way past the security gate and make the steel bars rattle as I close it. My foot steps emit a different sound as my feet come indoors and touch from the concrete onto the Oregon pine floor. I click the front door closed behind me and all the night sounds I could hear a second ago are gone.
There is a totally different sound now as I navigate with the echos in the hallway and the scraping of my fingers on the rough wall , helping me find my way down the passage.
My dogs claws click on the wooden floor and I feel her soft fur brush against my leg as she comes to greet me. Her tail whips on the side of my calf as she shows her happiness for seeing me. I wish I could see her too.