Frayed at the edges

By the beginning of September, even the oleanders, those hardy desert plants, are starting to look a little bit tired and frayed at the edges. Which means that you probably won't be surprised to hear I'm feeling very much the same. I've forgotten what the coolness of rain feels like and the daily blue colour of the sky; without even the hint of a cloud, has bored me to death. If I thought that doing a rain dance would change things, I'd be out in our yard leaping like a demented rabbit. When I scroll through my Instagram feed (more on that particular topic later) I feel envious of people talking about 'a chill in the air' and 'leaves turning gold and orange'. Here, the status quo has me chafing at the bit. I'll try to be patient. For a little while longer.

I've mentioned countless times how inert I am in summer but, around 2 weeks ago, I was on vacation for a week and, one morning, I decided it was time to take my camera for a stroll. By the time I got out of the house it was 11am, which is not the best time for taking photos, but I was hoping to make the most out of the sharp contrast between sunlight and shadows by taking some black and white photos. But, in the end, I decided to also use my 'Expressive' feature which puts an extra pop of colour into images to stop them from looking washed-out.

 I didn't drive far. My plan was to wander around a very old part of Rabat* (the town where I grew up and which is just minutes away). I parked right by the entrance to the catacombs and played the tourist in my old hometown. It's amazing what details emerge when you look at a place with new eyes. As I walked along the narrow streets and alleyways, I realised that some of the old houses were looking and feeling a little bit like me - frayed at the edges. 

It was these houses I sought. Not the ones that have been restored and are looking pristine. But the ones that have been abandoned for years. The ones where nature has taken over and that have trees and weeds growing from the oddest places. The ones whose doors have such big cracks that I could see the layers of dust and peeling paint inside. The ones whose windows have been blown open, revealing a glass chandelier or fraying curtains from another era. But although my fingers itched to release the shutter, I just could not bring myself to let my lens intrude into these abandoned abodes. I felt like it would be an invasion the privacy of any ghosts that still lived there. So I contented myself with doorways and facades.

*Rabat has a very old and interesting history but I'll skip the details for today. However, for a little background, the catacombs I was referring to date back to the Roman era and were used for burials until the 7th or 8th century AD. The underground tombs were located just outside the city walls of Melite (today's Mdina) since it was Roman practice not to bury their dead inside their cities. Over time, the burial grounds were abandoned and houses sprouted up in the vicinity. Many of these houses date back to medieval times and some of them are located on top of the catacombs.

And on a totally different note, Instagram has partially blocked my account. I cannot like or comment on photos and my captions disappear when I post a photo. It's been going on for over a week and I am rather annoyed. I will give it till this Saturday and if it doesn't get resolved, I will have to start a new account. I know that some of you follow me on there so I'll keep you posted. It's just another thing that has me frayed at the edges.