rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Insufficient

I would like to be able to paint sky such as I saw last night. I can't even draw, which is one of the reasons I was drawn to words. But my words can't describe that tumbled drift of variegated light and shade, or the satiny quality lent those clouds by the concealed moon. And yet paint could never capture the sound I heard while gazing at that sky-- a sound like blown sand brushing paper, which I knew to actually be the sprinklers irrigating the orchard at the end of the block. Music might paraphrase that sound, and less effectively the darkness in which it resided. Music might also paraphrase the sound of the air's movement turning the trees restless, and the shot-like report and trailing echo of an acorn hitting a rooftop. But neither paint nor music could convey the scent of damp wood and decaying vegetation and chilled earth which rose through the air, aspiring to that higher wind which twisted the clouds and sent them north, curled and billowed them hour after hour. No artifice could convey the look and sound and scent of last night, or the feel of the ephemeral air escaping. You had to be there.
Subscribe

  • Reset Eighteen, Day Two

    It seems like years since I was last out of this apartment, but it was actually Monday. How time doesn't fly! Time has been grounded. It's on the…

  • Reset Eighteen, Day One

    Tuesday I sort of slept well. At least I don't recall waking up multiple times as I usually do, and I slept for about seven hours, which was…

  • Day Out

    The first day of March found me venturing forth to acquire victuals and such from various merchants of the mini-metropolis, and to mail a check to…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    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.
  • 0 comments