Unusual Sky

The pleasing sunset's effects yielded rain. A fall of rain is a lovely thing where I live. A friend had called by. Was I sociable she asked. We laughed that I am always sociable because I am a writer. The transmission of this obscure reference in the hallway half way between the interior and the open door was rapid fire and there is little need to elaborate to someone who understands nothing ill is meant and neither aggrandisement or claim to sociability or otherwise that others don't have or I ought to. It's complicated. I love being here on blipfoto. Blipfoto takes me into another realm that I can roll with as the day takes or moment takes me. Writing per se on another hand is that occupation I live in, in a sort of invisible cloak of identity that is someone else's, engaged with the issue and subject matter and that's most of the hours I am awake. I almost have to 'come out' as someone in my own write when I stop. The plumber knocked on the door. I was asleep. Who goes there. What character is it. (See what I mean). I wish tradies would telephone.

I ran out later after sociability (cup of tea and an intense two-way natter about documentaries and film) to photograph the sky because we noticed as my friend was leaving the sky was interesting.