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What a good year for the roses
Written on the light rail on Friday morning, transcribed this evening finally.
There's a guy in the car with fuzzy white cat ears sewn to his baseball cap. Gee, I wonder where *he's* going. (:
The sky is wrapped in a soft gauzy layer of cloud, the mountains east and west on either side of the valley are barely visible. Such a dramatic change from earlier in the week--the glare of sunshine. The wind is cool and crisp; almost wish I'd brought a jacket. And maybe a brolly. It wraps around me, tugs at my clothes, makes me a part of its journey. "Come on, let's go somewhere, just let go of the ground and come along, wherever it is." Almost enough to dispell the artistic gothic ennui I've been inflicted with. The light is soft and diffuse, but still bright.
Had the Elvis song stuck in my head since the gardening phase began. I've been tempering it with 'Angels' and 'Pump It Up' today.
There's a guy in the car with fuzzy white cat ears sewn to his baseball cap. Gee, I wonder where *he's* going. (:
The sky is wrapped in a soft gauzy layer of cloud, the mountains east and west on either side of the valley are barely visible. Such a dramatic change from earlier in the week--the glare of sunshine. The wind is cool and crisp; almost wish I'd brought a jacket. And maybe a brolly. It wraps around me, tugs at my clothes, makes me a part of its journey. "Come on, let's go somewhere, just let go of the ground and come along, wherever it is." Almost enough to dispell the artistic gothic ennui I've been inflicted with. The light is soft and diffuse, but still bright.
Had the Elvis song stuck in my head since the gardening phase began. I've been tempering it with 'Angels' and 'Pump It Up' today.