þriðjudagur, júlí 12, 2005

nál

Cloudless sky. Hot already waking to the bells this morning, and still bright and warm when the bells go again at the threshold of evening, just too distant to allow one to make out the melody. Insects still buzz. Arboreal creatures chitter and chatter. The light on the pine needles turns them shining gray, a wintery green-gray that is all out of keeping with the actual temperature of the air.

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