...the sky is a mixture of pale blue and pale grey and pale pink... the air and the trees are perfectly still... and the last of the sunset is pink-orange above the horizon behind me... several aircraft move slowly through the air... the lights begin to come on in the tall houses across the water... and the first leaves of autumn lie about me on the grass...
...i feel it is time to walk to Parliament Hill to witness the last moments of day over the city...
...as i walked towards Parliament Hill i felt so happy and secure to be moving beneath trees in the semi-darkness
at the top of the hill:
...almost no wind here, just balmy air and grey haze and the setting sun on the horizon... all the city lights are now lit... and here, amidst groups of people sitting on seats or on the dry grass, are three children jumping and shouting and performing cartwheels...
...the air is full of voices from many conversations... the city is silent but for the occasional sirens of emergency vehicles... and i can hear the distant sound of the electric train that's brought me here so many many times... the moon is just visible through clouds above the trees to the south west and it is a golden yellow - not the bluey white or grey that it becomes later at night and when it is higher in the sky...
...everyone here seems to be happy... not wanting to leave... some are laughing as they talk... but to my right a small baby is crying unhappily... and now its parents wheel it away in a pram, walking slowly...
...i too could stay longer but i want to return home to transfer these handwritten words to my public writing place before sleeping...(these pages are designed to be read with the window set to two-thirds of the screen width)
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© 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005 john chris jonesIf you wish to reproduce any of this text commercially please send a copyright permission request to jcj at publicwriting.net