carpentrix: The air was thick today. A thunderstorm is right now thinning it. Fat raindrops fall har
carpentrix: The air was thick today. A thunderstorm is right now thinning it. Fat raindrops fall hard, drumming off the trash bins outside the window, and my phone buzzes with emergency alerts for floods. The air, earlier, before the storm, held the prickle of electricity, the static heat of standing too close to the TV. I like the charge. Sometimes a weather report is all there is to offer, and sometimes it feels like more than enough, given how the shifting pressure carried with it an expansive sense of possibility, of the wide-openness of things. The downpour, the damp, the cracks and flashes, the light yellowed like a bruise – here we are in the center of summer, and the tight places loosen, the hard things dissolve, and time melts. Time melts. The storm brought an early dark. It’s getting dark earlier. You can feel it at the edges. [Painting: I have moved to a bucket inside a cave. Do not visit. Thanks, by John Lurie, 2015] -- source link