It's raining again. Not the torrential deluge that plasters the whole world against your skin, but a gritty, bitty, irritating drift of fine water droplets. Not cold or windy the sky, but dark and brooding: like a glowering eyebrow shadowing the landscape.
The city seems quiet, through the glass. The lights sweep the road as if seeking some grain beneath the thresh of surface water. They will get none.
On the corner, three shadowy figures argue by gesticulation and stance, trying to keep from the weather. They seem to meet some resolution: a quick glance over shoulder and a loaded handshake finishes their business in a flurry of directions.
The dusk rolls in steadily.
Added @ 06:44 PM to Diary category on March 15, 2001
The city seems quiet, through the glass. The lights sweep the road as if seeking some grain beneath the thresh of surface water. They will get none.
On the corner, three shadowy figures argue by gesticulation and stance, trying to keep from the weather. They seem to meet some resolution: a quick glance over shoulder and a loaded handshake finishes their business in a flurry of directions.
The dusk rolls in steadily.
Added @ 06:44 PM to Diary category on March 15, 2001