mi_guida: (purple river tree)
Paris has been covered over by a freezing mist, that makes the lights sparkle through it and catches in my hair where it tucks into my scarf. It's all over everywhere, I could barely see across the lawn to my building when I got back. It's cold, and chill in my lungs - but dry and crisp, and beautiful.

Now, I'm inside, and my room is warm. There's a mug of hot chocolate at my elbow waiting for me to finish it, and my candles are flickering on the side table, while the fairy lights are lighting up the fabric that hangs down over my bed.

Just for a moment, it's all very beautiful.

Just for these moments, everything else becomes worth struggling through.
mi_guida: (purr kitten)
I had an inexplicably beautiful wonderful feeling when I was walking through the village just now. Three and a half weeks shy of turning twenty, I was wearing my green wax jacket, with my hair in red pigtails, walking through the village to the post office and picking black berries to eat along the way. Bar the flash of bright blue powder over my eyelids, I felt like I could have been in my village in an older and quieter time. It'd probably have to be a different village though, as since 1906 till the mid 60s, when my village had the railway station, it was actually pretty busy and had several different small factories and businesses.

The rose hips are out, too, but the leaves aren't really starting to change yet, nor are the conkers ready to fall - they've finished growing, but they stayed fast when I shook a branch experimentally.

Autumn is my favourite season of the year. I like the weather, I like the colours, I like the food hanging on the edges of the paths, I like the feeling that everything is quietly storing up energy and shutting down unnecessary processes and starting to sink back down into the quiet bronzy earth to wait out the winter.


mi_guida: (Default)

June 2009

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