It is 0430. The temperature is a pleasant 18, but the fresh breeze blowing through the security insect screens in the open windows and door makes it seem much cooler after the warm days we have had lately. There is a feeling of moisture in the wind that I hope is a promise of rain. I awoke just over thirty minutes ago, on the tail end of some strange dream, with a misplaced nasal pillow blowing air in my eye, a dry mouth, and a pressing call of nature. After satisfying the latter I took a freshly squeezed orange juice outside to check the thermometer and to look up at the stars.
There are none. The sky is overcast. I hope that is a favourable sign. It is cool enough that there is no frog activity around the pond. No singing, no mating, no splashing about. All quiet on the amphibian front. I tried to recall the dream that had spun away from me as I awoke. It had no doubt been fueled by my evening meal of a piece of swiss cheese and a sliced tomato between two slices of bread smeared with chutney. It had to do with space, had been a matter of some gravity. Gone now.
Andrew visited me late on Sunday afternoon, as I was beginning a second viewing of Destination Moon. We talked about science fiction films a little, and I told him of those I had watched recently. I insisted he stay and enjoy with me the most amazing film that I had recently discovered. I immediately put Gravity on. My fourth viewing within a week, and I still found it moving, gripping and enthralling. Andrew seemed as stunned as I had been. He thought that this was indeed the near perfect movie. I was pleased that I am not alone in this opinion. On this viewing I was still finding new things to appreciate, and had even finally picked up on the nuance that gives the title greater significance than I had first noticed. The gravity of the situation. For a punster I was unforgivably slow to get that.