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Life in the city.
I made scrambled duck eggs for breakfast, so I knew today would be terrible no matter what happened. If you ever have the chance to get your hands on some, I highly recommend them - light and fluffy with a clean egg taste. They go great with chives. Would that I had the funding to buy them weekly; they'll have to do as a rare treat when I have some money left over at the farmers' market. I had to run to catch the boat, which I didn't have to do, but felt better for doing so since the boat was leaving in just a few minutes. I stood at the bow again, and this time over I got splashed by the wake. When I got to the island, it started raining just as I got inside, and even though it was raining when I got back to Manhattan and my umbrella had broke, I didn't mind: it wasn't a violent or sharp rain, but the heavy, steady kind, so it felt nice to be out in it, especially since I knew I was heading back to my room and could change if I needed to.
The best part of the day, though, was spending twenty minutes sitting and watching the sunset. I've only got one window, and a single plane of glass at that, but it's West-facing with a clear shot that goes on long enough that I get a bit of a canyon effect going when the light comes in right, and that means on days when it's been raining and clears up around five I'll park myself in front of the window to watch the clouds go by the way some people watch sporting events. I don't do it nearly often enough, although even if I did it every day I'd say I wouldn't do it often enough. Some things you can't get your fill of.
I left dinner simmering on the stove and the kitchen has no windows, so when I got back to my room and opened the door it was a wonderful surprise - still early in the sunset, light colors all over, thin strips of sky closer to the horizon and at the top of the view. The clouds had texture, rolling waves like a tiny calm ocean, right at the top, and following bellow that it was soft and clear all the way until they ended and I could see the sky again. The clouds there looked flatter, the way they tend to do, like long smoothed-out rolls of fabric. If I kept looking it always stayed the same, and if I looked away and back for a minute it was different. The colors went from light tans to dark ochre to full-on maroon and violet, their texture fading when it became harder to see them alone. They disappeared from over the horizon, leaving the canyon open to nothing but color and the last little pieces of the day.
When I had to go check on the food, I ate fast, and even though it took about fifteen minutes, it was more than enough for the sunset to finish up and move onto twilight, and then into night.
I don't take much time to sit back and watch the world. I keep forgetting it's there, living in a place like this - then an evening like this comes by and reminds me.
The best part of the day, though, was spending twenty minutes sitting and watching the sunset. I've only got one window, and a single plane of glass at that, but it's West-facing with a clear shot that goes on long enough that I get a bit of a canyon effect going when the light comes in right, and that means on days when it's been raining and clears up around five I'll park myself in front of the window to watch the clouds go by the way some people watch sporting events. I don't do it nearly often enough, although even if I did it every day I'd say I wouldn't do it often enough. Some things you can't get your fill of.
I left dinner simmering on the stove and the kitchen has no windows, so when I got back to my room and opened the door it was a wonderful surprise - still early in the sunset, light colors all over, thin strips of sky closer to the horizon and at the top of the view. The clouds had texture, rolling waves like a tiny calm ocean, right at the top, and following bellow that it was soft and clear all the way until they ended and I could see the sky again. The clouds there looked flatter, the way they tend to do, like long smoothed-out rolls of fabric. If I kept looking it always stayed the same, and if I looked away and back for a minute it was different. The colors went from light tans to dark ochre to full-on maroon and violet, their texture fading when it became harder to see them alone. They disappeared from over the horizon, leaving the canyon open to nothing but color and the last little pieces of the day.
When I had to go check on the food, I ate fast, and even though it took about fifteen minutes, it was more than enough for the sunset to finish up and move onto twilight, and then into night.
I don't take much time to sit back and watch the world. I keep forgetting it's there, living in a place like this - then an evening like this comes by and reminds me.
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thankyou :D
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