We report: the clouds are moving away from us, along an invisible path on which we cannot follow them. We looked at the surface pressure maps carefully this morning, the red and blue lines, the triangles and the half circles, the isobars. We almost predicted the wind direction.
Que fรกcil es la vida cuando aprendes a identificar conductas, pierdes el miedo de confrontar situaciones y formas la voluntad para hacer las cosas y no guardarlas
We report: some clouds have taken it upon themselves to kickstart the sunset before the rest of the sky. First, the threads of gold that snag onto our eyelashes, and then the rush of humidity that takes hold of the air. We feel sparks and shivers in the crook of our neck.
We report: since the sky is oddly bright, we look for the moon, finding it pretending to be full (as you do). It sits in knots of cirrus, like a particularly talented spider on its web. Our expert gasps at the discovery of a moon dog, brilliant remanence of second-hand sunshine.
We report of a sunset that has been over-steeped, whatever sweet taste of it already drowned in the night. We take it, the way we try to take everything we can of the sky. Our expert talks about atmospheric refraction, and the fact that the sun has long set already.