I am wrapped in two blankets like a piece of chocolate inside a croissant. It is -1° outside. I can't remember the last time I saw, never mind felt, the sun. I intensely miss sunshine, not only for the warmth it brings but also for its ability to make people feel happier. Here we're all bulbs, hiding underneath layers of black cloth, waiting to bloom.
This lack of sunshine reminded me of a film a friend gave me a few years back, entitled That Evening Sun. Based on the short story I Hate To See That Evening Sun Go Down by William Gay, the imagery in the film reminds me of life at a slower pace, of cicadas, of sipping mojitos and not doing much because the heat is all-consuming. I'd like to be there, now, chilling with Abner Meecham on some porch and contemplating life in a strong southern accent.
According to the weather report, it is just going to get colder. Here's hoping that with the cold the wind stops, the rain becomes snow and the sun can finally peek from behind the clouds.