Recent Entries Garion born; thinking of doing video logs - 2012-09-01 I'm married, I'm a prospective father, wow I never update - 2012-05-22 Got the job at the NIA; mother complicates wedding plans - 2011-10-13 Scrawl - 2011-08-05 It's never been better - 2011-06-02
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The Wounds of Dusk 2004-11-24 - 5:23 p.m. 
And outside in the wane afternoon, bag and pack slung around me, I saw a red-orange canvas etched into the plate-glass windows of the chemistry building. I rounded out the corner of the psych building and breathed in cream and scarlet. All around me was the sky, some sumptuous bonfire wavering in the distance.It was still early. I ran across the street and down a block or two to the education building...through the elevator and up 12 stories...slipping into the 13th floor stairwell and finally, coming to the very top. There was noone here, the study area lights off and burnished metal shining dull in the dusk. I stood there and watched the sun die, throes of yellow and honey-pink trimmed with potent red kisses, shifting like heat along the simmering skyline. The city lights sprang from the evaporating sunlight in clusters, growing strong, with the tall tower beacons glowing devil-red in their steady fashion. And for a time I knew what it was to be an animal, captivated by only the present and what I could perceive. That memory stays, like hot pizza flaying the roof of the mouth, flavorful and potent. Sometimes healing, then, is not always best. I'd like to run my finger over this scar now and again, and smile the same way. And now I can. |
