On Meeting the Sky.

I’ve mentioned before on this blog that western skies at twilight have enthralled me since I was about twelve years old. They have moods, you see, just as we do, and with seemingly as much variation.

Last night’s sky was straight laced and organised – a single red bar along the horizon with uniform grey above. But sometimes they’re angry, sometimes they’re confused, sometimes they’re wild and headstrong, sometimes they’re soft and seductive, sometimes they’re timid, sometimes they’re loud, sometimes they’re darkly dismal, and sometimes they’re just plain bland. Tonight’s sky was quietly wistful and a little melancholy. I watched it for quite some time.

And that brings me to another point. Sometimes the mood of the sky matches your own, at which point a connection happens. A marriage of moods, as it were. At other times they don’t, on which occasion you become a disinterested observer taking yet another trip through the medium of the senses into perception of the abstract.