The silhouette hour

This is a piece of prose I wrote at the end of winter of 2015. It was an important day in my life. I wanted to remember how it felt to live in that moment so I painted myself a picture in words to look back on later. This week I read it again and found so many faults with it – so many things I wanted to change. But I think it’s important to just let things be sometimes. They are what they are and this is what it is. Every word chosen by me in a moment when words were a grounding force for my life. Does it really matter which ones they ended up being? Or is it more important to see the bigger picture? At any rate, I thought I’d share it with you.

Everything becomes a striking cutout on the peach, peony, purple backdrop sky.

The colours deepen every single second before my eyes. The train tugs and pitches and ambles along the track, moving like I do on my groggy midnight walks to the bathroom.

Through my window I can see the silhouettes of things I recognise without thinking – scrubby eucalypts, banks of cars sitting still at stop lights, proud boxey buildings with little glowing lights in them and so many more palm trees than pines. In my head it is still winter but my heart sees those wavy palm fronds and imagines it might be secretly muggy outside. It’s not. I’m wearing my warmest woollen jumper and a pair of old tights to keep the chill out.

Tomorrow is the day I will quit my job. Today is the day I ate sushi for lunch with my husband.

I feel reflective. It’s funny that reflective feels fuzzy and matte rather than sharp and shiny like a mirror. I digress.

 

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