autumn.
samekh_mem and I are planning to revise pretty much... everything about our relationship, namely the RPG, so that's very fun and invigorating. It also means I might be dusting off thecast, so if any of you liked Lemuel and Cain being snarky at each other in El Jay technicolor, you... probably won't get that, but you might want to look into the result anyway.
OH MY GOD. It just started to rain. ASlkansalskd. I LOVE the rain. I live for rain. Anyone who's read this journal these past falls and winters know that Israel would be unbearable for me, if it wasn't for its rains. They are the most refreshing, revitalizing things in the world. And now the yoreh has fallen, the first rain of the year, and autumn is officially here.
Autumn.
It signifies, for me, a time of beginnings and experiments, clean slates and the unadultered unknown. Muddy rides in the fields, coming home with grey-brown earth splattered all over your shoes and pants. It's hot tea, and a warm blanket; windows which you can't see through because of big fat raindrops sliding down and distorting the glass. It's standing on the balcony at mid-afternoon, under autumn sky which is the most beautiful cloudy-grey foggy-wispy dragonsbreath sky in the world, and getting soaked to the bone with wide-open eyes, t-shirt clinging and wet. It's hair that doesn't dry in the morning, but stays damp all throughout the day, and it's sweaters with thumb-holes already cut into the sleeves. It's the time for scarves (oh my god, yes) and new boots, and thicker socks and hoodies. It's corderoy coats which have been molding in my closet all year, when the weather was sweltering, and the million hoodies I received for my birthday (or just random occasions. Hedva isn't too discriminating). It's the time when the air is clear and the colors are vivid--we don't have any reds and ambers and yellow-browns here in Israel, but the evergreens are dark green against a milky-grey sky, and the earth is like a rich, dark ink which stains everything in a multitude of browns and blacks and umbers.
It's a time of inspiration, where drawings are moodily beautiful, and color palates subtle and rich. Writing is thoughtful, innovative, a bit sad; self-expression comes rampaging like a bull through a meadow. Senses are hypersensitive; the smell of freshly-cut grass and rain, rain rain all around, mingling with wet fur and smoke and a tang of oranges. The Water Festival has been answered, and Nature lets us suckle from her breast, one clear drop at a time. Autumn--a time of dimness, and dragons, and creativity surging inside a shuddering host.
And then, Jesus, and my birthday. ♥
OH MY GOD. It just started to rain. ASlkansalskd. I LOVE the rain. I live for rain. Anyone who's read this journal these past falls and winters know that Israel would be unbearable for me, if it wasn't for its rains. They are the most refreshing, revitalizing things in the world. And now the yoreh has fallen, the first rain of the year, and autumn is officially here.
Autumn.
It signifies, for me, a time of beginnings and experiments, clean slates and the unadultered unknown. Muddy rides in the fields, coming home with grey-brown earth splattered all over your shoes and pants. It's hot tea, and a warm blanket; windows which you can't see through because of big fat raindrops sliding down and distorting the glass. It's standing on the balcony at mid-afternoon, under autumn sky which is the most beautiful cloudy-grey foggy-wispy dragonsbreath sky in the world, and getting soaked to the bone with wide-open eyes, t-shirt clinging and wet. It's hair that doesn't dry in the morning, but stays damp all throughout the day, and it's sweaters with thumb-holes already cut into the sleeves. It's the time for scarves (oh my god, yes) and new boots, and thicker socks and hoodies. It's corderoy coats which have been molding in my closet all year, when the weather was sweltering, and the million hoodies I received for my birthday (or just random occasions. Hedva isn't too discriminating). It's the time when the air is clear and the colors are vivid--we don't have any reds and ambers and yellow-browns here in Israel, but the evergreens are dark green against a milky-grey sky, and the earth is like a rich, dark ink which stains everything in a multitude of browns and blacks and umbers.
It's a time of inspiration, where drawings are moodily beautiful, and color palates subtle and rich. Writing is thoughtful, innovative, a bit sad; self-expression comes rampaging like a bull through a meadow. Senses are hypersensitive; the smell of freshly-cut grass and rain, rain rain all around, mingling with wet fur and smoke and a tang of oranges. The Water Festival has been answered, and Nature lets us suckle from her breast, one clear drop at a time. Autumn--a time of dimness, and dragons, and creativity surging inside a shuddering host.
And then, Jesus, and my birthday. ♥