This is a view I will probably never see again, not just because skies do not repeat, but because circumstances don't either. It was a sweet sunrise, the beginning of something new, I thought, we thought, but it wasn't to be. This is life. But the world keeps turning. This is not a view I will have for the rest of my life, from the bedroom of a sweet little girl, only three years old, could have been a Misty Sister, that's the way it goes.
Windows are opening onto chimneys, and I've got the photo to prove it, which is all that counts in the end when love breaks down. I'm a bit of a chimney fan, although I'm not quite sure what my strange fascination with them is. Across the way I have a wonderful array of the things, which I look out on each day, so maybe that has something to do with it. Not that they spout out anything noxious - they're mostly anodyne these days. But the potential is there. Passive potential.