wise
I have forgotten what the morning looks like. The rain has been relentless, and when it grew tired, it had sent its henchman, The Chill, along its pursuits. Waking up was groggy - the alarm was jarring - but the beauty of leaving curtains half-open dawned. Then again, beauty is a superfluous word, too cliché and uninspiring. I was simply surprised by the light. Is this how it used to be? Is this how it feels like, a fresh morning?
In the shower, I could barely contain my disbelief. I braced for The Chill but his lashings did not come. I peered out of the high glass, searching if it was indeed safe. Oh the air was crisp; I am no photographer but I felt as though I had switched from the indiscriminating flatness of a conventional compact camera to a DSLR. The air played up the textural differences: here, it was near, sharp; there, I fell in love with the faint pink hues, delicious leftovers of the sunrise. Perhaps this will be my morning indulgence, a pousse-café for the eyes.
The rain was a spurned lover on a desperate campaign, bearing down wretched fury. This light is a wise lover, gentle but not weak, supple but not foolish. The rain was a murky Graveyard, bitter and brooding. This light is a sprightly Asti, bold, bright.
I might just be willing to pass up on the sunrise for the morning light.
In the shower, I could barely contain my disbelief. I braced for The Chill but his lashings did not come. I peered out of the high glass, searching if it was indeed safe. Oh the air was crisp; I am no photographer but I felt as though I had switched from the indiscriminating flatness of a conventional compact camera to a DSLR. The air played up the textural differences: here, it was near, sharp; there, I fell in love with the faint pink hues, delicious leftovers of the sunrise. Perhaps this will be my morning indulgence, a pousse-café for the eyes.
The rain was a spurned lover on a desperate campaign, bearing down wretched fury. This light is a wise lover, gentle but not weak, supple but not foolish. The rain was a murky Graveyard, bitter and brooding. This light is a sprightly Asti, bold, bright.
I might just be willing to pass up on the sunrise for the morning light.