So here's a thought. Picture stereotypical stick-figure people: the male, so reserved, stoic maybe, with arms by his sides; the female, perhaps by sole nature of that so-very-A-line dress, with arms reaching out.
Here I am in TO. All rainy and grey and concrete. I rarely pack for trips earlier than the night before and last night was no exception. I may even be past exhaustion at this point. [Ugly=not enough beauty rest]
Wednesday, on leaving work later than I should have, it took me a while to figure it out. The perfect golden light of a setting sun -- and what was that? Oh yes, lilac blossoms; their pungent fragrance drifting on the early evening breeze.
This morning, pea soup fog blanketed the sleeping town. Then, just as I arrived at the airport, the sun cracked above the prairie horizon and the fog began to fade into sunrise of the softest of pinks.
Again, finding myself in Toronto, driving along the harbour, the horizon line is difficult to make out -- only just barely discernible at the intersection of slightly smoggy-yellow-grey sky and the placid blue-grey lake surface. Admittedly, this blending of earth and sky feels surreal ... but that could also be the sleep deprivation settling into my consciousness.
Nonetheless, I did dearly wish to share those moments with you.