January. On an otherwise featureless midweek day of the new year, it’s 3.30 in the morning and I’m awake and there’s a storm outside. The storm outside isn’t why I’m awake, but now I am awake I start to feel part of it, the way you feel a storm at night, a sense of being protected and exposed at the same time. Tree branches dance back and forth, the street lamp throwing silhouettes in 3D on the curtain. Rain hits the glass of the window. The wind swirls in surround-sound against whatever stands in its way. The sound of the wind is really the sound of surfaces, of corners and gaps, the sound of resistance as air skirts the edge of the house and bounces inside the chimney walls. The whistles and the occasional scream echo from the fireplace of this bedroom.
Sitting is an eloquent business
Sitting is an eloquent business
January. On an otherwise featureless midweek day of the new year, it’s 3.30 in the morning and I’m awake and there’s a storm outside. The storm outside isn’t why I’m awake, but now I am awake I start to feel part of it, the way you feel a storm at night, a sense of being protected and exposed at the same time. Tree branches dance back and forth, the street lamp throwing silhouettes in 3D on the curtain. Rain hits the glass of the window. The wind swirls in surround-sound against whatever stands in its way. The sound of the wind is really the sound of surfaces, of corners and gaps, the sound of resistance as air skirts the edge of the house and bounces inside the chimney walls. The whistles and the occasional scream echo from the fireplace of this bedroom.