today's sky…


17th June
June 17, 2009, 9:54 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

The sky today was the colour of life. The blue was soft, yet bold and brash. It didn’t demand your attention, but once you looked at it you couldn’t look away. It was mesmerising – like expecting to see a wicker basket and instead finding a rare and beautiful snake staring you down with hypnotising eyes. But if you didn’t really look, all you saw was a bleak and colourless morning with a few flecks of sun cutting through the blue. It was, of course, but that was what made it so special.

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16th June
June 16, 2009, 9:39 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

Every morning for several months I have walked down the length of Platform Ten, occasionally glanced at the thick palm trees, so out of place, and then continued my journey to the train station’s caverns. Platforms Twelve and Thirteen are horrible places to be, and I wait twenty minutes for my train. Trams roar above you. You swelter in the heat and shiver in the cold. The ceiling drips with water. Where it comes from, nobody knows. Around five minutes in, a country train arrives to linger opposite Platform Twelve, where I wait. We stare at each other. It hisses and moans and pumps out fumes stinking of diesel. I turn off my iPod, as I can’t hear it for the noise, and cough and as my train is delayed again and again.
Then, one day, not very long ago at all, I looked and saw not only those palms, but an amazing, once-in-a-year sky. I stood, under the shelter of a roof with an open wall – a stage for the morning to act upon, or a frame for that priceless and fleeting painting. I could breath fresh air with the river and the birds. And I could see the sky, down at that tail end of Platform Ten where nobody stops. That’s where I am now, and will be until I stop catching my train. Then I can look at the sky wherever I like.
 

On the first day I looked, the sky was one of those spectacular skies everyone turns to look at. It was an effervescent pink, like the underbelly of a salmon, and it was draped with golden clouds like honey.

The second day was less of an event. The clouds were clear; cut-outs against the milky blue sky. It was special, and it filled you with this feeling of subtle excitement and possibility. Only two people looked at it, but nobody stopped.

The third day could be classified as your average, run-of-the-mill morning sky, but if you looked, it was truly amazing. The entire bowl of sky was a deep, even blue, the kind you see on misty twilight nights. It rolled across the river and down to the ocean, where it met a blue of the same nature. It was intoxicating. That day, a few people almost paused and stared in my sight’s direction, as if I was gazing it something out of the ordinary. But I was.

And now I have begun this blog. It is my hope that I will be able to describe every day to you, and that maybe you to will stop and wonder at the world, rather than shoving yourself deeper into the comfortable and safe framework of accepted culture. Please, keep looking. And go to that place you could be, if you abhor where you are. It’s the little things that change your life, and make it better for you and for everybody.



June 16, 2009, 9:09 am
Filed under: Uncategorized
Right now/In the midst/We fly

Right now/In the midst/We fly