miðvikudagur, nóvember 09, 2011





On the evening rounds, passing young women staring skywards. Is it supposed to be at 6:30? At 9:30? I don't know, I say. I heard I would need a 6-inch mirror on the telescope I don't have to see it. Really? Because of the atmosphere? Because it won't hit the atmosphere, more likely. It won't burn, so there won't give off any light. Oh. How strange!

I move off -- we move off. I feel him rising into a trot next to me. I forgot to fix the blinking red bicycle light to his collar before heading out, and I'm not sure they saw him at all.

1 ummæli:

Rouchswalwe sagði...

Já. Sitting in the dark, he blends.

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