Magic Hour

Hwæt-This evening the low light of falling twilight filled the house after Casio killed the lights with his new wall switch fetich. I was in bed in my clothes to help trick Morri into falling asleep at a reasonable hour.  She grew still sometime around the end of another Famous Blue Raincoat rendition.

The whole house was still, and there was still enough residual royal purple light filtering in through the gaps in the curtains to make out basic shapes of objects. The house was the perfect temp, cooling to breathe but not so cold as to seek a blanket. I held my breath as long as I could, hoping, I guess, to keep the stillness that now lived here to stay that much longer. And it was a beautiful time, sudden onset nostalgia of nights alone in my childhood rooms, watching the death of the day. Anymore I have overmuch light, but until about 10 years ago I never even bothered with lamps. I would just read until I couldn’t make out the letters, and then just relax and fade out into the night.

I miss that stillness in that darkening magic hour. I need to seek it out again. For old time’s sake.


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