Envelope
in twilight fog,
the pale moon becomes
our only star.
Grey skies aren’t all bad.
I absolutely adore fog. Waking up to it, falling asleep to it, watching it swallow the world and then slowly let us go; it’s a sight to see.
Tonight I’m perusing an old blog where I used to talk about indie music and I found South by Sumner, which somehow sounds more Australian to me than Men at Work and Ganggajang put together. There’s something free-floating about it, something that makes you want to cast off your bonds and roam the wilderness until you find a reason to live.