TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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11.13.05, saturday afternoon
After the perpetual yellow twilight of city nights (regardless of whatever city I was in), I had never noticed until now the indecipherable darkness of moonless nights or a sky refreshed by lambent, milky light. Last night the moon wove a fine spiderweb around its nimbus of a heart and then a fingerprint appeared, left behind by a giant en route to his next home. Above the road from Galway, cirrocumulus stripes welted the sky; indigo and grey; a tiger leapt along the mountain, on a futile hunt for cosmic mice.