Now that I'm in your shadow

At night the mosquito net comes down and tucks into two corners of my bed.

In the morning, the blank white walls are stripped yellow by the slatted sunlight. Several alarm clocks are ringing in the distance as I cradle my head still slightly fragile from the night before.

There was no need for air con, so there's no need to switch it off.

After a coffee I walk down 6 fights of 6 steps and am welcomed by the fumes of old baby smells from the former owners of my car. Unlike other cars I've driven before, it's silent when I press the ignition button, and even though its ready to go it makes no enthusiastic roar or even a purr. Just the sound of fans and lights.

The 3G GPS is slow to register, as I pull off portsdown and towards the streams of cars east boud on the Ayer Rajah express way.

Work is a red and white office, cheerily lit and like the bridge of a starship in a scifi Role playing game (Wingcommander 4/ Masseffect) is bustling with activity not very consequential to the course of my narrative.

In the afternoon, I'm in a studio working on several polystyrene trees. there's a lot of really bad radio, followed by a news broadcast, followed by a lot of googling japan + tsunami.

There are many images, but the one that sticks with me is an imagine of a man who owns a porcelain shop and is picking up the pieces.

We don't discuss it in much depth, it makes for pretty unusual banter for a while before we exhale and get on with it.

Back in the office, I'm going through my birthday email. One's from a Japanese colleague of mine, time stamped only hours before the quake. Thankfully, not currently in Japan. I reply with a thanks/condolences letter. And she remarks about the inappropriateness of the email subject line.

Its only then that I realize my strange birth day-after relationship with this disaster.

I find it hard not to confuse parallels now. Trying not imagine waking up hung over and walking out to find myself standing in the shadow of a tidal wave.

My quiet car, floating in a sea of grey.

Bits and pieces of cake covered novelty gifts.

An inbox full of wall posts and e-cards that wouldn't be accessed for a while.

That surely it was someone else's birthday in Japan on March the 11th.