Sunday, June 19, 2011
Last light. Which is reflecting on the bare trees in the street, and on an aloe plant I have in a pot.
The wind has finally stopped thrashing the trees outside; there's no other sound except for the neighbour with the awful generator's wind chimes.
We will, symbolically, be reaching the longest night in the coming week; I pray that, afterwards, the light and the end of the storm will come quickly.
The dawn is at its closest at the darkest hour.