The Dying Light

The day was long and stressful...the opposite of yesterday. It consisted of scheduled appointments...menial necessities. The things of life that dreamers and creatives engage in reluctantly. At the hairdressers, I felt at the mercy of an extremely vigorous young women. My sensitive scalp still aches from her powerful fingers. Getting my car serviced, I sat in a frigid room made of plastic and steel and concrete. I kept reminding myself there were trees outside and sky, and air that was truly breathable...soon...soon.

And soon I was picking up Music at the groomers. The dear little dog was as grateful as I was to visit the Inner Harbor Park on our way home...to meander our way over grass, beneath tall pines that whispered of breezes off the Gulf. By the time he had smelled almost every bush we passed, the light was beginning to go...the water aglow with its last brave spillings of itself. We stood on the pier and Music was patient as my camera and I absorbed the mystery and quiet of letting go.