Sparkling.
That’s one of the things I miss about snow. During a clear day, the light is blindingly bright. It becomes impossible for pale eyes to see. On a moonlit night, the crystal landscape turns an eerie blue, mixed with the garish orange of street lamps.
This is winter – a barren landscape of brown, gray, white, and blue. Frosted breath and burned skin – blistered by cold light is the new normal.
Smoky air, lanolin, and nutmeg waft, swirling in winter’s bluster.
I think fondly of this time, perhaps because I am so far away, in a different kind of barren. Here everything is yellow and brown – dirty from a lack of rain. It is a kind of dirt that will never be clean. This place is a beautiful threat – alluring with swaying palms and sparkling sand. It promises movies and luxury, all while draining one dry – drier – driest.
Death waits in both the sand and snow. One is a slow torture, the other a quiet, sleepy comfort.
I see both beauty and terror in each. It is gift and curse to have such flexible sight. The brink of disaster is adventure. A crisis makes way for opportunity. This is the cycle. This system is perfect. Perfect and sparkling.
This week I intend to bring some changes to my system. Applying this flexibility of perspective, categories and tags will change on some of my work. Other work will get added. Books will get some minor updates. It is a process, this movement, but I think the finish will be worth it.
I think everything will sparkle.
Picking out sunglasses,
Alexis
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