Posts tagged ‘evening’

Rain.

In evening’s dim light, 

silent raindrops like diamonds glitter, 

voiceless whisperings unheard, 

brief existence of utter beauty, 

sailing on – rolling – into the night, 

sweet dreams…

Cabin of Death under repair.

“Dear tenants, please notw that from the 2nd of May until the 12th of May 2016 this elevator willbe offline, due to maintenance and repair. We are sorry for the inconvenience.”

Alright.
I am not burning down the house.
Yet.

I live on the 6th floor, or the 7th if you can’t count right (a.k.a. American), which means on a normal weekday I go down once in the morning, and ideally, up once in the afternoon. If there’s an “emergency” more often in both directions.

This time span includes a weekend, a holiday and a banking holiday. I hope that am all ten days from rhe earliest hour possible, until the latest possible, there will be men (amd women?) laboring hard to improve our technological standard and safety.
Because of not, I will become irked.
And then I will burn shit.
So I leave the house at 6am, there better be a bunch of schmucks greeting me with a smile and greasy faces ready to weld something, including the banking day, and holiday.
Or you turn the darn thing back on during the four day weekend you and your lazy jerkoffs are going to take, now are you?

I know, they will not be turning it on, and I know, they will not be working from 6am till 10pm, but at least I was able to let off some steam…

Take care, and steer clear of elevators…
A.

Sky impressions from home

No rant this week. Just the beautiful skies I get to see from my home

image

Evening.

image

Morning.

Enjoy, and take care,
A.

Vacation 2

In case the internet connectivity issue still hasn’t been resolved, here’s a picture of our willow and lantern.
image

Relaxing. I know.

Fire

There is something strangely calming about fire.
The hissing and whisping flames, sparks flying off into the nightsky, with smoke and warmth, and light.

Some archaic enchantment lays itself over me, while my clothes, hair and every pore of mine, soak up the smoke, take it in, as if it was better than air:

I have made fire!

I made these logs burn, I made light and warmth appear.
True, with the aid of a lighter, not some sticks and a lot of patience. But still, I made fire!
The powerful, ancient weight of that simple act, of repelling the darkness of night and the creeping cold, feels good and frees the spirit to soar, discovering freedoms unbeknownst to those who wouldn’t dare stand at arms length from burning logs, engulfed in sparks as if fire-fairies danced around one.

Tales of greener grass, and bluer skies and cleaner waters and fresher air, spun around more loyal and truer people come to mind – stories as old and certain as the flames before me, certain as if half remembered from actually having witnessed, rather than just heard.

Freed of burdens the mind takes to wander, and to wonder. Hesitantly a blinking, distant campfire reminds of the nightsky. Are there others standing in the hot, radiant stream of fire fairies? Wondering over wandering mind, and ponderous mood over the simple act of igniting a fire?
Sure.
How far, I know not, but there are…