(Claus Tom Christensen [CC / Flickr])

Drizzle fills the sky around me. Has it been forty days? Or four hundred? Or only four? I would have known once, but now an hour is a day is a month.

I only know the time before her, the time of her and the time after her. The time of the dark, the time of sunshine and the time of infinite drizzle.

I sit and watch you, the people who pass me by. You who still live in your dark or your sun. I see your world through one-way glass and I see one who walks among you, yet who sees you from the same side of the glass as I do. We nod to each other across our shared world. We are two human-shaped spaces in the sky of drizzle who know what we are.

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Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle

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