January 25, 2010

  Across the window the day plays games with itself at first dark and bleak filled with lemon sized raindrops. Puddles flood your walkway and of course all cars are parked far from doors this evening. To be locked up inside on such a day dreaming of toadstools and ant farms and McCully. Like a fresh blanket on a cold night the sun forces its warmth across the window allowing play to continue but in itself changing the very fabric of the day. Forcing new thoughts on different matter but far brighter than the last. The sun in its casual abandon allows a new complexity on the day. Changing the formulation of a dreary topic, if you could live longer would you allow the death of someone else, the stranger paradigm. Just being too develop into the ramifications of the thought when the sun changed the mood bringing with it a new idea, a spark so to say.

And suddenly the rain returns bringing all thinking round to its dismal way. the voices that trail alongside the window have all lost their swagger and become as quiet as the ground. Forced to accept drop after drop warring and whareing each section.

And then the sun again and everything changes. Do you find the weather this problematic?


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