It will be cold inside. October by air-conditioning. So I am sticking to the warmer currents, here, for as long as I can. Soaking up the evening unfiltered.
Persistent in memory, is an archetypal beach day. Sitting in the hot sand, trailing grains through fingers. While the surf thumps and sprays salt -- and the heat and forever-blue sky accent and open the moment. Just like this. Just like today.
So: pen and paper -- amid marigolds, petunias and pretty unknowns. Water in my glass. A breeze that cools just a little -- and caresses more.
Earlier, high-up, I saw a butterfly the color of lemonade, its wings outlined in velvety black.
More recently: a bee on a blossom. Vivid colors and small scale swaying.
More slant to the shine, now.
The tops of the trees are brightened while, below, shadows stretch. Sound levels are lower, a bit more dreamlike. The silences in-between stretching too.
The light behind the lace is beautiful and timeless. It poured through a window inside. Turning the curtain to ivory and gold.
I like sunlight through fabric -- or other translucencies. Light, filtered and illuminating. Showing, and partially concealed.
Alluring.
I remember lying on my blue and green-turtle towel, at the beach. Eyes closed. The sunlight, on that memory day, filtered through me -- making standard shadows glow red-gold.
The light behind the lace of that memory makes this day even sweeter.
If I close my eyes and breathe, I can see the glow again...and smell the perfume of a distant blossom.
Just a bit.