rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


The foreshortened evenings nearing the equinox are nice for walking. There are soft shadows, and the air, though still, is cool. The late light plays across the west faces of the trees, slowly rising until all their green is shaded by their neighbors, and only the pale blue sky remains bright. In the hour of dusk, everything seems suspended, waiting for the change of season as much as for the falling night. I mark each of these days carefully. They have become few, and thus rare and valuable. I store up the memory of them, the way a squirrel stores nuts for the winter. The moon is almost halfway to the full. As it wanes, the nights will grow longer than the days. Then, I will forgive this summer its oppressive heat, and remember these final evenings that redeemed the season.

  • Reset Thirty-Six, Day Seven

    Tuesday I managed to get the laundry done at last. For a couple of weeks either my schedule was off or the laundry room was already in use, and I was…

  • Reset Thirty-Six, Day Six

    Monday. Slept, woke up, ate something, took the wheelie bin out to the street, couldn't do laundry because the machine was in use, slept some more.…

  • Reset Thirty-Six, Day Five

    I don't recall much of Sunday other than that the sleep came in two chunks again, one by day and one by night, and the nocturnal sleep ended just a…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.