The haze clears from your eyes, on a Sunday...
...with apologies to Jimmy Eat World of course. Actually Sunday is often the haziest day to me, and I'm not quite sure why. Not the whole thing either mind you, I had a very enjoyable time for most of this Sunday, coffee at Mercury Espresso Bar was followed by brunch at Bonjour Brioche (superb omlettes!). I generally had an agreeable time this Sunday, I drilled Lesley on some stuff she needed to know for her new job (I hope you passed the test, babe).
So yeah, my Sundays are often rather pleasant affairs, the haze (or reverie, or whatever) hits usually when I'm alone, some time in the afternoon or evening. Another week is over. Another week is over, and....
And...
And what? I've another week less to live? What did I fill the past week with? Another week gone, and I have to wonder. Driving up the DVP at 4:15pm and the sunlight's pushing through the clouds at strange angles, this is what film makers call "magic time" about an hour before sundown. It's hitting the Bloor Viaduct, and it's hitting the fiery fall colours of the valley below. It's enough to make me pause in wonder between lane changes.
Sunday afternoon always seems to be the time when I notice these wonderful artistic contrivances in nature. Maybe it's the only time that I really, really look, I don't know. I don't know what to make of it either. Another Sunday, another week gone. What have I done with this week? Have I made the most of it? What about the next one? Except I never feel that focused when I reflect on a week. It's more of a feeling, of the inevitability of time. Another week comes, another week goes. A week from now I'll be one week older, never able to do anything about that passage time.
Tags: Sunday.
So yeah, my Sundays are often rather pleasant affairs, the haze (or reverie, or whatever) hits usually when I'm alone, some time in the afternoon or evening. Another week is over. Another week is over, and....
And...
And what? I've another week less to live? What did I fill the past week with? Another week gone, and I have to wonder. Driving up the DVP at 4:15pm and the sunlight's pushing through the clouds at strange angles, this is what film makers call "magic time" about an hour before sundown. It's hitting the Bloor Viaduct, and it's hitting the fiery fall colours of the valley below. It's enough to make me pause in wonder between lane changes.
Sunday afternoon always seems to be the time when I notice these wonderful artistic contrivances in nature. Maybe it's the only time that I really, really look, I don't know. I don't know what to make of it either. Another Sunday, another week gone. What have I done with this week? Have I made the most of it? What about the next one? Except I never feel that focused when I reflect on a week. It's more of a feeling, of the inevitability of time. Another week comes, another week goes. A week from now I'll be one week older, never able to do anything about that passage time.
Tags: Sunday.
posted by Dan at 8:14 PM
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