October 18th
We report: our train was running late enough that we thought we might as well walk. We watched the sky darken with the evergreen mid-autumn question of “when did nightfall start coming so soon?” on our mind. Little by little, while we were looking elsewhere, is the answer.
October 17th
We report as the afternoon is beginning to wither away: it was windy when we got here, and our face is still ruddy from it, our hair still out of sorts. Now, the sea is still, and the waves barely stir the pebbles on the shore. We hear the oystercatchers over the quiet.
October 16th
We report: we come across a flower field, and in the mid-October light, it feels odd, a little out of place. There are bumblebees and wasps about, and the flowers are especially fragrant in the sunshine. The yellowing trees in the distance anchor us back in the season.
October 15th
We report in the kind of weather that is not demonstrably cold, but that is felt to be cold because of our state of tiredness. The sun is not yet where we think it should be, and we are not where we ought to be anymore (fast asleep, in our bed). We must do with the disconnect.
October 14th
We report: first light, then second, and third, and the morning is finally beginning to come into existence. There is a light drizzle, we think - we have not set foot outside yet. Leaning on the windowsill, we can smell damp, and other, less describable things of autumn.
October 13th
We report here on these open flat lands: we have not felt wind like this in months, all push and no pull making us stumble over our own feet. The air is dry, not even very cold, all things considered; but the wind is stealing every word that comes out of our mouth.
October 12th
We report: late afternoon by autumn standards, the yellow sun meets yellow leaves. In some places, we see the colours change every day, but on certain trees, the transition seemingly happens overnight. We look up, wary of the numerous mast year chestnuts that fall all around us.
October 11th
We report on this mild October night: if the planes went somewhere nice, the sky forgot where exactly a while ago. The breeze has methodically swept over their paths again and again so that none of them make sense, and the contrails have become new kinds of clouds by now.
October 10th
We report: the dregs of the evening pass us by, quiet, flat sound waves reverberating across the fields. Our expert dropped their keys as they took their hands out of their pockets, and we are now hunched over the ground with our torch lights, looking for a glint in the grass.
October 9th
We report in unmoving dampness: the clouds are low, an opaque mass that has absorbed the entirety of the sky. With the clouds closer to the top of our head, we move around the world a little more gingerly, like we have a duty not to disturb the repose of the sky lake.
October 8th
We report: the sun leaks into the sky, and we find its echoes in the clouds for a long time after. We hear the hiss of high voltage arcing as we watch, and we wonder if some turning off and back on is in order. Some of the troubleshooting pages are missing from the manual.
October 7th
We report as the tide comes in under the sunrise: there is more gold in the sun now that autumn is settling in. Dawn pours in one drop at a time, and remains there in the air for a long time. The moon is still in the sky, facing the sun in an age-old standoff.
October 6th
We report: we stumble upon the full moon, and out of nowhere, we get a sense of scale for a fraction of a second. We get vertigo as we realise how big the moon is, and how far away it is. Then, a cloud floats in front of it, and the moon becomes a yellow circle in the sky again.
October 5th
We report as the storm is getting away: we did not stumble upon this rainbow by chance. We noticed the sudden onslaught of rain, and the way light was pouring down at the same time. The rainbow was exactly where we expected it to be; we had only thought it would be bigger.
October 4th
We report: in another place, the sky remains this blue most of the day. The clouds appear out of thin air, and fade back without causing much disruption, barely approaching the sun during their short-lived existences. The air is dry, even quite warm when we stand in the sunshine.
October 4th - 11:25 PM
11:25 PM: we trudge along fresh puddles on the way home. There is light from somewhere far away keeping the horizon awake.
October 4th - 10:39 PM
10:39 PM: the fog rises, real fog that wraps around our legs and trips us when we are not paying attention. With the sky sitting on our shoulders,
October 4th - 9:08 PM
9:08 PM: that we left behind at dawn. We hear the temperature drop and the humidity grow in the louder sounds of traffic. In the shadows,
October 4th - 8:00 PM
8:00 PM: the grey clouds dissolve into the blue of dusk, losing shade after shade in the ocean. We return to the cold
October 4th - 7:16 PM
7:16 PM: we forget the day must end. The colours turn once more, dragged into existence by the low sun, the late hour. Soon,