“Who among us has not dreamt, in moments of ambition, of the miracle of a poetic prose, musical without rhythm and rhyme, supple and staccato enough to adapt to the lyrical stirrings of the soul, the undulations of dreams, and sudden leaps of consciousness. This obsessive idea is above all a child of giant cities, of the intersecting of their myriad relations.”
Charles Baudelaire - Dedication of Le Spleen de Paris 

I took a nice rainy evening walk to the lake then up to the hill yesterday with Aang. The dark clouds seemed to join us and enjoy our path since not even for a second they were not crowding over our heads. But I just wanted to go somewhere quiet and wasn’t really in the bright yellow sunny mood (the little yellow daisies picking activity doesn’t represent any emotional state and was taken for aesthetic purpose only so stop trying to psychoanalyse stuffs) so the overcast was pretty much amicable to me. Aang didn’t think so since she wanted to click the rolls away with her LCA. On our way almost get to the top, there was wide open space with this tall water tower that simply is a big fat tube. But it’s neatly brushed with zigzag texture in vivid sky blue. It looked like a Rothkoesque lighthouse on a cliff being crushed by grayscale wavesFor a gray day like that, thSmurfville landmark was the highlight so we spent a roll posing around it. We loved it, the analog camera’s light leaks did too, and I believe local indie bands looking for album cover material will too.

We sat for a while to catch our breath and enjoy the view from the top before heading back down. Then Aang gave me this cute union jack can as birthday gift. A day nicely spent it was.

midnight silence is remedy for the fatigued souls

as the sky at dawn unveils mysteries

and dusk is when we ponder without demanding answers.