Thursday 6 December 2012

Intimate Apocalypse

Rain sharpened so fine it cut like needles. Roadside pools clogged with the last remnant of autumn. The brown paper bag holding the pizza disintegrated.
This morning it was quite nice.
Winter now, and it's in the sobriety of the air, that sense of apocalypse that always accompanies the end of a year, or rather, that sense of one's own mortality. I suppose that's a kind of intimate apocalypse. Some people get their sense of mortality when summer fades... but I shop for it slightly later in the year.
But I do tend to do everything late anyway.