Saturday, 17 March 2012

A whiskey-drinker I used to know swirled his glass around and, listening to the sounds of the ice, called this one of the 'great sounds of the Earth'. Hearing him say that was one of the great sounds of the Earth for me. I've always loved sensual people. People who often remark on the sensation of colour, smell, texture, touch. The first Kiss may have drawn me to the Man, but hearing him remark, 'Look at all the wonderfulness of all the colours in there', in the middle of a supermarket vegetable aisle, welded me to him.

Some sensations that I have always loved:
The sight of young, green leaves. Especially when the sun shines through them.
The lace of bare winter branches against the horizon. Beautiful.
The scent of the bread aisle. When you're hungry, especially, but even when you're not.

Beautifully cut, drapey, stark-white tee-shirts. There is no look you can't accomplish against the canvas of a deadwhite jersey tee-shirt and jeans. You can go maharani, or Parisian, cute, sexy, both. You can go balletesque, or geeky, vampy, trashy, goth, whatever.
Silk blouses, silk dresses. The feel, the scent, the drape.
Epaulettes make me feel something... But I can't say what.

The golden light that fills the room at different times of the day, in different rooms. Every house I've ever lived in has had a different room that lights up at a different time. Walking into a room and stopping short to realise - this is the room, this is the time, this is the light - is one of the great joys of a new house.

Conversely, I'm often horrified by people who pass beautiful sights and sounds by without a second thought. One of the most beautiful sights in the town centre where I am right now is that of the full moon rising above the crazy-angled rooftops. A few times a year, the moon appears huge as it rises. A pale swathe on the horizon that slowly takes shape. And in a few hours, a beautiful silver globe hangs just out of reach. I walk down the road and stare and stare and stare. And crowds walk by me, in the direction of this beautiful, glittering thing, and their gaze never seems to lift for a single second.

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