Autumn Nights

I climbed out of my window, on to the flat roof of the abandoned fruit and veg shop (it was gone well before the crisis...perhaps we could use it now?) and lied down, looking up at the stars.

It's times like these that noises hit me the most. Or perhaps least, as I contemplated the calming silence enveloping me. No cars in the distance. No planes overhead. The students don't go out to the clubs anymore, because the beer is warm and there's a curfew. A general despondency has fallen over the city.

Manchester had its poor spots, its "red zones", the areas you don't go in the night, all before the crisis. They're still here, and I hear they're significantly worse. Riots break out in the north and south-west. Murders and theft has skyrocketed. The mayor and city council don't seem to have any idea how to break the chaos. I tend to keep to my area, the only time outside the neighborhood being when job-hunting, or stopping by the nearest "convenience" store (knowing that they really won't have anything). I make a weekly stop by the school, not to study (losing almost all of your international students, as well as fair amount of Brits surely can't help the situation), but to buy from the portable fruit cart in the nearby park. I'm surprised they can even make it out here, although the lady in the trailer told me they've reorganized their delivery and pick-up route to save gas. The prices are still significantly higher than they were in the spring.

As my lease nears its end, I'm trying to say goodbye to the neighbors in my own unique way. I've played while they've worked in the "field" - the name we've given to the parks and communal gardens claimed by all who have the proper equipment. Although we're not well-off, we certainly are hospitable, and a feeling of community has flourished; they enjoy my tunes, and they always give me some of the crop. I'll miss them when I leave (two weeks), but the move will be better for me.

Most of the students have left, but the houses have filled up with people looking for cheaper rooms. They are friendly and accommodating, and I don't find it difficult to talk with them. During my degree, I found talk outside music difficult. Although I've had many varied interests, I found communicating ideas and thoughts awkward. Now it's a different story: we're focusing on what needs to be done, our long-term goals, past stories. The temptation to talk about "the way things were..." is always there, although we all know we'll never return. We can smile warmly at the past, but we need to focus our attention here and now.