The sun is rising noticeably later. The clouds which clung to the mountains yesterday afternoon have spread, and a bank of them in the east intercepted the early sunlight so that it fell on the street with an eerie shade, like the faint memory of vanished golden mornings. But blue now appears, decorated with spots of white cirrus, one of them like the giant skeleton of an eaten fish. Pine tops bathed with normal daylight, the world has lost that tinge of melancholy it briefly wore. There is even a bit of cool breeze carrying the songs of morning birds. I almost regret that I must sleep and will not be able to watch the day progress.
Still no word on the dental appointment. It must be arranged soon.