The air feels cooler than it did this morning, but still has that same summer-evening humidity. The hammock beneath you sways gently each time you move. In the pool, the pump is running, churning warmed water back. Birdsong weaves itself into your surroundings, the magpies and the pigeons calling to each other from the rooftops and the bushes. In the distance you hear the gentle buzz of suburban traffic. The vague smell of figs sits in the air, sweet but unobtrusive.
