“Is Petersburg really as you draw it?”
“I draw it as I see it”
—Onegin
When I woke up, it was just another day, and my room resumed its silence as I turned off my alarm in the darkness. When I got outside, it was just another morning, although the recent drop in temperature has frosted the grass and turned the pavement white.
When I got on the bus, the sky started with a plain, early-morning glow that seemed to stretch out in a tunnel towards my destination. As I traveled further east, the sky turned pink and red, and a perfectly vertical beam of cloudless light shot out from below the horizon, letting me know that the sun was waking up.
I watched the sun rise as the bus took me to work, watched the sky turn from grey to red to yellow to white. I saw the heavy morning fog snake through the trees of a forested green golf course, and saw it recede, as if the earth had chosen to display itself by lifting her downy veil.
There are days when I want to get off at every stop and take pictures of the graduating atmosphere. When the ride is a journey only experienced by bus.
i love it when you read to me and perhaps this place is a way for you to read to me when your voice is too far to hear, i can hear your intonations, your nuances, the places where you’ve paused and laughed to yourself or taken a moment to think before continuing. i hang on your every word, just as the times when we lay together and you read, painting the author’s picture as you see it.