Is there anything more romantic than the night sky? On a
night like this: nothing. Inky black space and stars sprinkled like celestial sugar (ridiculous, I know).
They speak of an unparalleled distance from the here and now, but the here and
now speaks more aesthetically to me at this moment in time. Past the streetlights,
the golf course hides in darkness: beyond, the lights of the central belt bathe
Scotland the colour of rust. There’s more colour in this night than there was
in the day. The landscape of man has its moments, when it’s not killing the
night sky.
I haven’t seen a bird worth talking about since the snows
melted.
Days spent deep in books and nights spent forgetting it all
again. That’s the pattern at the moment. A walk back from my friends attempted
to cure the mood. Instead I got a Barn Owl. White under the streetlights, on rounded
silent wings, it’s in front of me when I notice it. Owl. Most definitely not
Tawny goes the thought process. In seconds it had disappeared into the darkness,
with one lingering Barn Owl shriek…
And, just like that, birds fly through my life again. It’s
my first in Scotland, surprisingly, and not outwith the bounds of reason, but
quite unexpected anyway. With the direction, height and speed of flight, I
guess it was taking a shortcut from one patch of farmland to another, avoiding
the city or hills.
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