I’m reminded of Paris when I work at dusk. It’s the colour. The light outside is deep full blue and glowing. Bare branches of crab apple twist and battle each other. All is utterly still. Distant trees by the cemetery just a haze of twigs. Seams and squares of yellow light split dark walls as peple return home… and here in my room all is warm and orange and yellow and softly edged.
It’s nice to be up here working at this moment. And now the moment is going… and soon it will be black with a solitary steet lamp, a ghostly roof corner and steak of shadow all that exists beyond the curtains.
