In powder blue.
They always make it look so much more pretty on the silver screen.
The whole walking-toward-the-sun thing, that is.
Myriad colours splashed across the sky in hues, differing in intensity and volume – like a three-year-old’s amateur painting, simple yet strangely beautiful. A huge globe of fire slowly slides off the earth where the land meets the sky, creating countless silhouettes and haunting shadows.
Then you take to wrapping yourself in the retiring day’s embrace, watching forlornly as the diamonds appear overhead in the darkening sky. The world turns and grows old with you.
I have not had much luck with that, unfortunately.
In great contrast –
I have driven towards a canvas of grey clouds, leaving behind a perfectly clear sky.
It raises every inch of hair on your skin and puts you on an alert like never before, making you feel as though you are driving to your doom – you become acutely aware of how the clouds chase each other across the sky; the frantic, squeaky movements of the windshield wipers; the strong, gushing waters all about you that brings to mind the Niagara Falls.
It makes you wonder who could be sane or bold enough to drive into a storm.
Like a fascinating suicide of a different kind.
And when you eventually emerge unscathed off the curtain of water at the other side, there is no triumph, no victory.
You get the feeling that things have become somewhat hopeless when busy, globe-trotting celebrities update their blogs even more regularly than you do.