the grey sun

and suddenly it is december, and suddenly the sun wraps herself in pale haze and does not rise over the horizon for more than a few hands.

darkness has come slowly, sneaking, and has taken over completely.

and the snow tries falling, and fails miserably, epically. the earth is peat-grey, the sky is grizzled, the people throng in the asphalt grey streets like bugs on a shopping run.

i try to avoid shopping centres, and supermarkets with their unseemly bright light and hypocritical music, and many people lost among the shelves. the simulated light makes me feel lost and nervous, and hurts my eyes. the music offends me.

i like the darkness, and the fierce wind, and the naked trees, and the grass that is pale and nondescript, and the staunch birds that have chosen to winter in this gruff country.

and so i think of the last ship, when all that is magical, leaves the land, and humanity is left to its own designs. either they are considered to be grown up enough, or the counselors have given up on the advice, and left the people to reap what they have sown with such care.

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