Ramblings from the deck

I've moved from the couch to the balcony as the sun has edged towards the horizon and the shade is too pleasant to avoid. The view is of a few rooftops and then mountains all the way across to Table Mountain, as you will know by now. All is peaceful with no visible signs of human habitation from this angle, apart from the unobtrusive cableway building and a few stone buildings that are only visible when the setting sun reflects directly off the windows onto my deck.
Wispy cirrus clouds high overhead hint at a spectacular sunset, as if to punctuate the beauty of the day, and a gentle breeze wafts in from the Atlantic to entice us down to the rocks as the light fades and a waning moon rises in the east.
I could be alone on the planet, such is the lack of human activity around me. How pleasant.

And yet I can be equally at peace in the city on the other side of Table Mountain, where the heat of a hot summer's day gathers suffocatingly and then dissipates in the long twilight after the sun has disappeared behind this great chunk of sandstone that stands as a beacon to sailors past and present, drawing them in and providing succour from the often perilous journey round this south-western tip of the continent. There is an inexplicable magnetic quality to this mountain that affects all who live near it, that makes them miss it when they are gone, and can't wait to return to its warm embrace.
No wonder it's called the Mother City.