Sunday, July 24, 2016

Crepuscule sur le Canal (Twilight over the Canal), oil on canvas, by E. Menard, 1894



                                     
                                         
The time of evening when the page gets too dark. Lamps must be lit. Air cleansed by fog inflates the lungs with ease. Scent of fish dinners frying in distance. No sound but diminutive waves lapping against old timber. Vessels rocking ever-so-slightly. The sky holds all the light it still can, as the day takes leave. A crescent moon barely born. Sky and water are homogeneous; therefore you are free. The chill and madness of last winter does not penetrate, for she awaits you in a simple room, the golden illumination of its window in view.