The hallway light flickers, the dishwasher churns, a patch of sun creeps across the face of the kitchen clock. The kids tell me about the hum of the powerlines on the corner, but I find that I'm too old hear it now.
In the bath, a stray yellow leaf clings to a hand towel on the rack, its parched edges furled like wings. There's a vibration in the air that feels like waiting. It's nebulous but heavy, the opposite of absence.
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In The Weird and The Eerie, Mark Fisher asked "who or what is the entity who has woven fate?"
I listen to the soundless space where the hum used to be. I get the feeling I might know the answer.
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ReplyDelete"The day is coming to an end. A few lights are now visible in houses across the estuary, on the edge of Woodbridge. They are looking south, across the river, to trees and fields dreaming on the horizon. In a field below Sutton Hoo there are horses grazing, their tails swishing gently. The warmth of the day is still there--a glow of summer, a remembered precursor And summer heat is a doorway to the outside...."
ReplyDeleteTrès à propos! And did you know, I anticipated this by a few years? Check the link... https://victoriaphantasmagoria.blogspot.com/2019/09/dustlight.html
DeleteWe only have a lifetime to escape....
ReplyDeleteAnd I intend to use it...
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