On the ledge

The hotel in which I'm staying masks it's opulently large windows with a pair of heavy set curtains behind which is found a convenient ledge on which to perch and watch this new part of the world pass by. I'm sitting there now, visible to the world only by the light emanating from my laptop. I wonder if anyone has noticed my shadow figure in the window?

It's three o'clock in the morning local time or nine 30 in my natural time zone. Working at home has gifted me with the habit of late nights which means my body is currently rebelling against the very notion of sleep at what it perceives as such an early hour.

Outside a baby is crying. I can't see it, but there are still numerous figures flitting about beyond my window even now. I can see the airport control tower in the distance, and the gentle roar of aeroplanes disturb the quiet every now and then.

Outside a man is setting a fire in a small brazier in front of what looks like, but may or may not actually be, a temporary shrine made out of bits of wood and cloth and paper. Beyond him waves crash on what I assume to be yellow sands if the hotel brochure is to be trusted. Two men walking down the street are revealed to be a single man accompanied only by his shadow against the wall.

Inside a mosquito whines by my ear, reminding me that I've yet to make use of the insect repellent I bought in preparation for the trip.

Outside a dog is standing in the middle of the road. In what little time I've been here I've come to recognise dogs as a familiar sight. Alone and in packs they seemed to dominate the road along the short route from the airport.

Time passes.

The baby has stopped crying. The man, his fire and his shrine have gone. The dog can no longer be seen. Figures appear and disappear still in the dark, though fewer in number now. I'm still awake.

Tomorrow shall be a long day.