2:23 - 2:34pm

Suddenly feeling it, where there should be two shadows, one falls, and in that sense of something wrong, that spiraling foreboding; this sense of the missing can only increase, at least for a while. Hard enough now, but when I think to February, when that isolated sense of midwinter hibernation wears off? Look around to those emptied out lands, like those other emptied out lands; spring of '97, summer of '94. summer of '87, late autumn of '05. I can play with these dates like I'm juggling tarot cards, and I'm still not sure whether they continued premonitions or only mirrors.
Sat on the sofa in my room, and I can taste two past periods, one I can't name, and the other a late autumn night in 1993. Smell of oranges (I also associate this smell with the spring of '93 - I think it was the scent of the house I was living in at the time) and air freshener. Cleaning my sunless room on a sunless day, listening to Type'o'Negative's Bloody Kisses album, vacuuming my room as that serious winter light fades to that brutal, consoling winter darkness. Loathe to turn on the lights in that empty house, to break that spell, and I can't remember whether I was smoking then on not. Cups of tea, and that welcome hush of silence, though in that silence, some sense of loss I couldn't quite place either (probably the passing of the autumn of that year, one of the more progressive times in my life). As it got dark, that gladness to leave that house, and that off loneliness. I had a late photography lecture. Yellow bus to Langley College, through those miles of now-bleak countryside, ruled by gods and December and spiky consoling twilights.
That's what I taste now anyway.
Just beginning to get dark.
Night falls so early in December.