Fifteen years have passed since I last stood on the banks of this enormous dam. Back then, the weather was far less pleasant. At this same time of the day, I had sat huddled in front of a tent blown flat by a roaring gale, and watched lightning fizz as it struck the surface of the storm-coloured water. Deafened and percussed by thunderous booms from above, I was drowned in torrential rain.
But not tonight. A good 30 minutes have passed since the sun stole below the line of trees near the horizon, and there is only a zephyr of breeze. The mozzies have begun to swarm but they are not an unbearable nuisance yet. In the distance, I can see the last of the kites finally abandoning the day’s hunting and head for home. It is tranquil.
Stars, only one or two at first, begin to assert themselves as blue bleeds to black. Even when the temperature starts to drop more quickly, I reluctantly dawdle back to camp. I don’t get to spend enough time out under this curtain anymore, and am determined to bask in their twinkling as long as I can.
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