Chrimbosity.

Lumière ...

I don't want the last evidence of me on this blog to be a picture of a foggy railway platform, so for the case that I die very soon, I've unearthed some pictures of sunnier days. They seem almost impossibly far away right now, even if they're only just over a month old. Also the drastic contrasts of darkness and light in those photos are a little comforting in the face of my currently continuous gloominess: There's absolutely no light that comes without darkness.
They're unpopulated.
But old stone is comforting too.

Tonight we fly
Over the houses the streets and the trees
Over the dogs down below
They'll bark at our shadows
As we float by on the breeze

November, December, start counting ...

It's raining on this first of December. A whimsical, drab drizzle in front of an almost-white sky. It may be a cruel joke - the kind of humourless joke that only weather gods come up with - on behalf of the people who are actually waiting for and looking forward to real winter, because it is associated, and signifies some other eagerly awaited event - or should I reverse this: the advent of some dearly loved and much needed person or other!

This year I, blasphemically, have reason to revisit the wonderful anticipation of a childhood advent, complete with countdowns and calenders, indulging with relish in my own childishness. I really can't wait for Christmas time this year! I think it's going to be a good one, for a change, as compared to the last few years which were decidedly meh. And in fact, I can actually stop counting and start rejoicing a few days before the 24th - see countdown in upper right corner. Oh sigh, the magical thing that is long distance relationships!