Tuesday, June 29, 2010

pencil sketch beauty

Yesterday morning felt like I had somehow driven into a black and white photo. The sky was a thick, quilt batt of gray, the road a charcoal ribbon. Even the string of oncoming traffic seemed muted and colorless, except for the sequin brightness of the headlights. A car in front of me was gray and so was the van behind me. Why have so many people chosen to drive something the color of fog, I wondered.
A women trudged toward the bus stop. It seems that people walk differently on damp, dark days. Gray is a heavy color to many.
But not to me. I like to see the distance fading into mist, and feel the lowering sky gathering round me like a comfortable wool sweater; like a cocoon. I think of gray as a soft color, as soft as dusty winged moths, and pussy willows.
Today the sun shone and the clouds fled away. People ventured out in shorts and sandals, their steps light. The trees were layers of green against a crisp blue sky.
Which is more lovely, the colors of a warm June afternoon or the pencil sketch beauty of a gray day. It's hard to say.

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