(no subject)
Today is one of those days that could be any day at all.
I'm looking out the big window that overlooks the bay.
All I can see is white.
There is no grass,
no water,
no sky,
no little white sailboats bobbing by the docks.
Just white.
The foghorns are going off every few minutes,
sounding long and low and muffled.
And I remember writing about days just like this in fall, winter, and spring.
Days that are just white.
Days that have a close, undefined feeling to them.
It's like the same day repeated.
Or a reset, where to all appearances, everything in the world outside just stops.
The fog outside today is certainly a much warmer fog than on those other days.
But just to look out the window, today could be any day, in any season, in any of the years I've been here.
I'm not entirely certain whether that's rather neat or disturbing.
Both, really.
I'm looking out the big window that overlooks the bay.
All I can see is white.
There is no grass,
no water,
no sky,
no little white sailboats bobbing by the docks.
Just white.
The foghorns are going off every few minutes,
sounding long and low and muffled.
And I remember writing about days just like this in fall, winter, and spring.
Days that are just white.
Days that have a close, undefined feeling to them.
It's like the same day repeated.
Or a reset, where to all appearances, everything in the world outside just stops.
The fog outside today is certainly a much warmer fog than on those other days.
But just to look out the window, today could be any day, in any season, in any of the years I've been here.
I'm not entirely certain whether that's rather neat or disturbing.
Both, really.