Share Bride Failing Star

Nighthawks, Edward Hopper, 1942

Last night the sky was the clearest I've ever seen without a power cut. The faint smudge of the central belt of our galaxy was just perceivable. My gaze was fixed upward, waiting for something to happen. A streak of light 100km above. The trouble with Earthgrazing meteors is that there's no sound. You can't write 'woosh', regardless of whatever noise your mind tries to associate with the spectacle. Shiin is apparently the closest you could get to describing it.

Sunset is quickly becoming a depressing affair. At the height of Summer, Sol sets at 2209. Within two months, it's down to 2000. You can feel the Winter closing in. If Summer is day and Winter is night, then it's easy to see why the mind is chemically happier in light. You can't help but feel down when Sol has buggered of to the Southern hemisphere. That meteor hails the end of Summer.

The little people continue to scurry about shopping malls, watching "reality" TV, denying anything is wrong. They infuriate me. I'm on the verge of a Kurtz - grabbing someone in the street and saying Do you know that IF is the middle word of life?

Then I dreamed of a girl I met. Not a brunette, at that. Alas, will my jaw ever drop again as I peer over my aviators at the girl that's entered the room? It's been some time since a flower last adorned the combat jacket. 19.

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