29 June 2005


Now I know it is winter, even though we haven't had a properly cold day yet.

Every day my journey to work is getting blacker (not in a depressing sense) as more of the grass fields along the way is incinerated in fires. These range from little smoldering patches to great blazes with huge billowing clouds of white smoke, that makes little flakes of soot float down onto passing cars.
At night these are even more spectacular, because you can clearly see the tongues of flame licking and devouring the dry grass.

I love the smell of these fires.
It is warm, wholesome, nourishing.
In it's scent lies the promise that as soon as winter is over, little sprouts of luminescent green will appear, soon covering all the blackness as they draw nourishment from the fine ash of their predecesors.



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