The sun today feels hotter than it did last year, more intense. I'd forgotten how perfect the sky is on days like this, a clear, almost transparent shade of blue, a criss-cross of white aeroplane tracks. My position on the roof: legs dangling inside, feet on my bed, sitting on a a wooden box which stands underneath the attic window. Hands grazing the roof tiles, and arms resting against the burning black window frame. Arms, nose, cheeks will be burnt tonight. This perfect position makes for looking over the street and the houses, the gardens partitioned into oblong sections, some wilder than others. This position makes for daydreaming and sunbathing, not doing what I should be doing.