Canary Wharf, London 2003

Summer has finally blessed us with a sprinkling of watery essence from the skies. After seven odd weeks of sun, blistering hot sun, sun that melts the stone chip through thick thick oozing tar, rendering all life null and void out of the once grassy paddocks and parching the earth, bleaching the scape a desert like yellow. A small lapse in the meteorological system has bathed the thirsty environs in a liquidy layer of life juice. A liquid that brings a healthy glow back to the undulating hills and mountainous ranges in the distance. One that will expire soon and the lapse will once again go back from whence it came. A belated welcome to the first month of the summer season and impending Christmas craziness.

And on a separate note, the last few weeks have seen a great many genres tickle my eardrum skins, and one that's stuck out at the moment is Zimpala. Gorgeous.

Now playing: Kurt Maloo - The Captain Of Her Heart