One Lizard, One Cat - The Archive Backlog 1

back in the day, old and good

There’s a small lizard; it’s about two inches long crossing the carpet in the sunshine.

It’s a baby; if the cat doesn’t see it, the lizard will grow to adulthood.

The lizard is unaware of my watching; I am above it out of sight on the bed.

I am not sleeping.

It’s 11.37 and the morning sun is strong, the sky is patient blue.

The lizard turns, it is busy but it, like the blue sky, has time.

I hear the cat, but he is distant and the lizard is untroubled.

I call the cat.

The lizard disappears.

The cat jumps onto the table and starts to clean himself.

Nothing else is moving.

There is no breeze.

The shadows of the leaves of the tree that is above all this are still.

The Archive Backlog