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Sleepest thou, wakest thou, lord of the wind...
SSar's Beast
morbane
I love the sky. I have never been happy with my own attempts to describe it. I think that I would have to be a great author (not by popularity, by skill and perception) to ever describe the sky to my own satisfaction. I love the silver-white sunsets and the surprising blues and the way it's deep and the way it's flat, and the way you could lie staring up at it at any time. We may have polluted it, we may make the ozone layer peel away like dead or rotting skin, but we haven't cheapened it yet. It's still the vault of heaven. I love the sky. I love it for surprising me with a fascinating, gigantic sunset tonight. Not what you imagined, believe me, but smoky and silver and brassy and dim blue and textured... and even for me to write that feels silly, because it only solidifies the wrong image in your mind. I can't describe the sky. I can't describe the way something that's miles and miles above your head can feel like it's protecting you. Or the way that the gradations of its composition are so subtle that you can imagine that, if under the sky, you are in the sky... in the same air that touches the next level of atmosphere that touches the next, and on until, through the burning purifying blue, you come to grand emptiness. And suns.

I love listening to people talk about their friends. I love the way you hear them snag over bits, snag over bad memories, and then work to smooth them over in the way they talk. Working earnestly at being loyal and making things work out. Or, if the snag is too bad, working to smooth over and let go, or at least for now. I love the way that when people talk about their friends, they mention something that they think that friend is the absolute best in the the world at - whether they think that consciously or not, whether it's because the friend is successful or skilful or just because the friend does it with such class.

I don't quite love my own style, but I will share my joy and my bad moods alike. Here is easy, relaxed joy.

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I love this entry. An entry feels like an odd thing to love, but I do. One of those ones which makes you go all grin-y and pleased. Incidentally, as we drove home from the restaurant last night, and I noted that brilliant, textured, glowing sky, I vaguely thought 'I hope SSar is seeing this over there' (I then looked in the direction of what is roughly your neighbourhood, given the fact I had had wine at tea and was slightly giddy in my perception). That sky was amazing (it has me resorting to cliched adjectives anyway). All sorts of things happening in it. I love living here when there are skies like that.

*grins* I knew you'd see that sky. I too imagined you seeing it.

And now my head is filled with ideas for a letter for you, so, senselessly humming, 'The cuckoo is a pretty bird', I'm going off to the trampoline to write...

Actually, about writing... remember I was telling you about that surprise thing on Sunday? Well some stuff happened and the surprise is kind of turning into a bit of a novel (dammit, I really tried for it not to, really). It was a complete acident, but I think, I think, I think, I'm writing fantasy.. grr. I didn't mean to, honest.
It was meant to be another Dan Dubious tale, but it kind of needed an ancient Kingdom to make it work. Then the ancient Kingdom needed neighbouring ancient Kingdoms. Then the Kingdoms decided they needed certain characters and ruthless nobles and the like. It got political. It kept getting bigger. Now the whole fiasco has become an ongoing project... In short, things are in the works, and I'm sorry for saying I had something for you when I don't. Not yet anyway. Give me a year of pulling my hair out and screaming at this thing and I just might.

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