rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

The Crickets Sang all Night

The first time I visited this town was when my older brother moved here. I don't remember the time of year, but I remember cool nights, and the wind that stirred them hour after hour. It is windy tonight. It isn't a loud wind, but it makes the pines moan and whisper, and now and then there is a groan from the mulberry branch which scrapes the roof. The night sounds haunted.

Most likely because of the wind, the cable has been off all night. I watched the stars for a while, then had recourse to video tape. The Third Man. Zither music and bombed out buildings, gunfire in the sewers and an unhappy ending. It suits my mood. Afterwards, I went out again and let the wind rumple my newly shortened hair, and let my eyes adjust to the darkness until I could see more distant stars. The place is much the way it was that first time I was here, but it feels at least a century older.
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