Oh, what to think of these odd short days of so many faces, and so much holiday food? There were oceans of people scurrying about in the dark clutching impossible amounts of plastic carrier bags as I walked home from work today in a nighttime hail shower (even though it was a Sunday afternoon). And even in through the suffocating crush of wet coats brushing and rough edges of packages scraping, there was still the grace of a fresh wind rushing generously up against my face.
The other day, to cure a headache, I went to the winter gardens that are only a short walk from us now. There was a brass band playing nearby and this angel's trumpet that seemed to shine light from inside its flowers. I think that it may be the sweetest cure for any affliction.
Time seems to run in increasingly intricate patterns these days. Thoughts and daydreams begin to burst their barriers and run over into conversations about the weather. There are hours and hours for the selling and the buying of things, but no time at all for creating them. And so, in the midst of all this, it feels to me more important than ever to grab at and steal any stray moment and to draw all possible pleasure from it.