0,99 €
"from the town below came the sounds of muffled voices, laughter then footsteps echoing in the paved narrow streets. Siesta was over. She could start work. At night, when it was cooler, human energy emerged renewed. During the day it evaporated away with the heat. For the cicadas it seemed the other way round – perhaps they needed the heat to make their sound or, maybe , just maybe, during the heat of the day, they knew nothing else would be moving, making a sound to compete with them"
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014
The cheka cheka of the cicadas grated out over the long limp afternoon. No wind riffled the dry beating heat to give relief.
”Stridulation, yes, that was it,” she thought, remembering the term for the insects’ behaviour. By the end of the summer, she had heard, that the little nobbly bits they rubbed together on their legs were quite rasped away.
"I can believe it,” she mused, as the sound continued. “Any musician would get worn down with that much work.” She wondered about their ears.
Mercifully, at dusk, they ceased – by then she was indoors preparing a salad for herself, a misticanza, wild mint, wild rocket, wild fennel, garlic and lettuce – each single taste like a clear note against the others.
It was still hot but the sting of direct sunlight had gone –the thick house walls and terrace tiles gave back gently the heat they had collected so fiercely during the day.
She sat out again with a glass of wine feeling the warmth on her legs. She touched the terrace wall – it felt smooth, glowing and alive, the temperature of skin. From the town below came the sounds of muffled voices, laughter then footsteps echoing in the paved narrow streets. Siesta was over. She could start work.