Softer, softer. Haziness prevails. Not a gleam. Nary a glint. Neon signs and traffic lights suddenly spun colourful candy floss haloes. Cars, condensation-matte, pass by with a muffled sssssssssslish, sending up a few hundred thousand more miniature droplets to hang suspended with the other umpty-billion cutting the visibility and seeping into your clothes. Rain in stealth mode. People loom out of the haze with unwittingly cinematic drama, fading in like the Death Star or horizon-breaching Lawrences of Arabia. A frozen Arabia.
In the arbor
5 years ago
4 comments:
This is beautiful, X. Suddenly, my papers seem soggy, my glasses clouded, the tip of my nose slightly wet.
Thanks, acre. (!! That could take me a while to get used to).
Are you not totally impressed at my ability to control to weather via blogging? Yoda knew not of this new way of accessing The Force.
Holy smack, you're back!
I feel a great rush of relief and now I have to go catch up on some brilliance!
(I'm not used to it, either!)
Now that I know of your Jedi weather control, expect to hear from me when it's 3 degrees out and there's six feet of snow. You'll take care of that for me, right?
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