And here she is yet again ...

She likes to sit looking out the courtyard gate, at the cars and buses but mostly at the people. When she hears a sudden inexplicable noise, she makes a dash for the dark beneath my bed. But mostly she sits and watches. Occasionally, she will walk along the brick wall, flirting with passers-by, who then come and talk with her, and rub her back. She likes people. But not the man who reads the meter. The man who reads the meter comes in at the gate. That necessitates a dash for darkness.


Being out in the open with an exposed back takes courage. This day she was dive-bombed by a chatter of noisy minors. The green of her eyes deepened, her ears became more erect, every muscle in her body was on alert.

Then she made a dash for the heart of darkness.