þriðjudagur, apríl 24, 2007


Thunder is coming. The forerunner of rain -- the vardøger, fylgja, fetch -- has already entered without knocking. Vapor of rain. It's wafted in like someone else's soul abroad in the world (ML 4000; E721.1). It's a good smell. It is a challenge to the frantic early-summer scents that trail cacophonous chattering in their wakes. Perhaps they are good and bad angels.

Engin ummæli:

Hvaðan þið eruð