From A Rooftop

I'm lounging - literally - on a rooftop, beer on one side, book spine on the other. It's almost teatime in England, siesta time in Spain, and the only noise I can make out is the faint shrill of cicadas and voices carrying up from the pool. The sea is a cartoon blue and candyfloss clouds wisp lazily across the sky. The breeze rustles, a car engine starts, an inflatable ball slaps against water, across the bay a city slumbers.