icarus_chained: lurid original bookcover for fantomas, cropped (Fairytale)
( Oct. 19th, 2016 07:32 pm)
Ah feck. I never realise this until I'm in the middle of it. I get sort of ... odd for a bit in autumn. Euphoric? I just get odd this time of year.

I say it's my favourite season. It is. It's just ... everything feels more in autumn. It's a kind of sensory overload for me. Everything feels thin and sharp and intense, all red and silver, thin pearly skies, grey rain, thin bare branches and red leaves. Everything feels like it's going to be gone soon. It's like a tugging sensation, grabbing you and tweaking on the line until you follow it out. The days get shorter. It feels like a countdown. I want to be out, to be there, to be present. I want to see the leaves and the silver-grey skies. I want to watch red sunsets. I want to see misty moonrises. I get this sweeping sensation, this thing picking me up and tugging, tugging, tugging. Autumn is red and silver, fast and hollow and running away from you, thin and sharp and too far away to reach. Everything feels needy and grabby, have this now because it's going soon, a whirl of things to get swept up in.

I get odd this time of year. Wilder than I normally am, odd like I've got a hole in my chest with a fishing line running out of it. It's my favourite, but it's so hard. Winter's nearly a relief. I go to sleep again in winter. I get to relax. Autumn is this frantic feast of a thing.

I never remember this until it happens. Every damn year. Feck it.
The sky caught me.

That happens, sometimes. Especially this time of year, autumn, the autumn skies in Ireland keep catching me. It's when they're silver. When there's these sheets of high silver cirrus over the blue, with white and lead cumulus drifting beneath them, like cloud ships sailing on a shining, silver sea. The sun high behind the silver, making the whole sky glow, wide and vast and white-gold. It caught me on the way home, because one of the cumulus ships had drifted across the sun and was shining a deep blue at its heart, with pearlescent rainbows feathering its edges from the light caught there. I was actually caught stupid, crouched down on the footpath with my shopping bag at my feet, smiling stupidly up at it. Cloud-ships on a silver sea. They make me feel like there's something unfurling in my chest, uncoiling open from a fist to a palm, tugging me up and out into the bright, endless wheel. They make me feel ... huge and open and clear as glass, chiming faintly with the turning of the world. Like a glass bell hung from the sky with the sun in my chest. They make me feel big and bright, like there's nothing in the world that's not beautiful. I love it. I love them. Those skies always catch me. They make me feel so alive.

Sometimes the world is too beautiful to bear, do you think? I end up crouched on the ground, staring out at it in wide, stupid joy. I ought not to, probably. It just ... it just catches me sometimes? It just grabs me, right around the chest, and tugs me open. I don't know what to do with it.

I would live in the sky. I would dream dreams of cloud ships and cloud cities and endless falls upwards into a molten, shining silver. I would dream of being bright and clear as a glass bell, dream of sunshine in my chest and this white, open joy in my head. I would live forever like that. I would be a silver autumn sun, if only the world would let me.

*shakes head* I ... It's so intense, sometimes? I don't know if you're meant to feel like this just randomly. This open thing in your chest that almost hurts with how much it ... with how much it feels. Loves, maybe. I don't know. It's so intense.

The sky catches me sometimes. I don't know? But my, my, me and mine. It's beautiful. It's so beautiful sometimes. Yes? I think so. I don't think I can help it. *smiles crookedly*
icarus_chained: lurid original bookcover for fantomas, cropped (Default)
( Oct. 16th, 2008 07:43 pm)
Thought I'd share. The evening here ... the sun really did drift down, sedate and happy, white-gold and molten through pearlescent skies, with the wind fresh and biting, and the smell of winter in the air. And then, the witchmoon rose, a yellow haze over the black inked lines of the bare trees, a soft and subtle jewel in a sky that was more satin than velvet, deep blue and vast. A wild, autumn evening, and I'm feeling ... fresh and vivid and a little haunted, melancholy and masterful and the smallest bit mad. *laughs* It's a night for insanity, for hunting and blood and fey creatures in the shadows, for a wistful wind and a mad moon, and the bright laughter of the stars.

There is magic tonight, my friends, bright and sharp and shadowy. Go feel it!
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