More Neo Noir Thoughts

It's warm enough during the day to go swimming, but the nights are still cool. The tempo of the evening is pleasant; relaxed, like jazz drumming. I think. I don't know too much about jazz. 

There is probably more than what I'm seeing and hearing. I'm pretty observant, but nobody gets everything. 

The memory of the heat drags on me. Memories have weight, I believe. They can pile on and on, and crush you, if you don't keep moving. 

Am I not moving?