Neither the sun nor the clouds will fully commit, leaving the day overcast. These are the dull conditions in which boredom can spread. Outside, the nuances of cloud and filtering sunrays can be observed. They require an effort to appreciate, an acquired taste of weather, unlike the instant deliciousness of blue sky or the immediate bitter-sour jolt of lightening. Outside the air carries a smell of spring that I am unable to describe, maybe it’s just the rise in air temperature over the cold of the ground. The wind has chill but not ice, the ground is wintry damp but not frozen. When winter is approaching, filtering in through autumn, one thinks of thick knits and the possibility of wearing a bobble-topped hat, but now, spring must be sifting into the air, for I am thinking of pretty florals and short sleeves, like some ancient instinct is telling me to shed my winter coat. My Wellington boots have a floral print, so I’m prepared.
There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud. A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout… Tea break time. There's a lot of words...

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