All day the ground wet and the sky overcast, the rain held back. Anticipation raised to delightful power. I once thought that my love of melancholy was the cause of my love for grey days. But now that melancholy no longer has such appeal for me, I love the grey days none the less. I think now that perhaps I love them for their sensuality (cool air on skin, rich scent of damp earth) and for that potential they withhold; the possibility of rain, or of a sudden outburst of sunlight. Anticipation and mystery invigorate the day.