I am sitting on a bench overlooking Seton Lake, British Columbia. I have had my coffee, toured Lillooet, confirmed my schedule, texted and now I get to relax. I took many photos with my camera and phone.
I am debating driving further down the highway, which means that I will. It is Tuesday and while I want to stay until Saturday I have booked until Friday. The nights are colder now. If I go back on Friday I can check out the late autumn colours on Saturday, edit pics on Sunday and do whatever on Monday. I work on Tuesday at one o’clock in the afternoon.
I have now about five hundred and fifty photos to edit, I will have over seven hundred by Friday. I should see if Fields has any SDHC cards, I might need another.
British Columbians curse when they hear of Ontario, Albertans apologize when they hear someone is from Ontario. You do not have to be a genius to see the division between west and east here.
Afternoon – I spent ninety minutes this afternoon colouring a mandala. I walked all the way over to charge my camera and phone and, of course, I left the plug for my cell phone back at my truck. I will charge my camera first, get food, then return to charge my phone. Kitty is on his usual patrol across the lawn, probably inspecting the mowing job while pissing off a nearby raven. The stupid plug in my truck, instead of charging my camera, completely drained the battery. Awk.
Evening – I came back first to charge my phone then I will eat. I want a nice fire going during dinner but I would like it to be darker out first. It is seven o’clock now and already the temperature is down to, wait, twenty-two? No way it is that warm out here.
Night – It is after nine and some morons are running their camper down near the washroom, the headlights beaming down the lane at several campsites of people trying to sleep.
The train is passing, the dogs or coyotes are howling, the fire is crackling, and that camper is still idling. I would be amazed that no one has complained yet, and a loud white diesel truck finally left.
I am on page thirty-seven of “Brave New World”. I recalled before that I had read a portion of it in my exams in high school. Interesting they never told you what it was about but they expected essay responses to the questions on it. It was a test perhaps to reveal your true nature through your answers. A test to see if you were a conformist or an anarchist, an Alpha or an Epsilon. A believer or a troublemaker. I am certain I was the doting conformist as expected. I did not have a clue, back then, what the story or passage was about. In my streamed general knowledge, it was arguably above my caste.
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