non si capisce niente

Currently listening to: Joshua Bell - "Kreisler: Sicilienne and Rigaudon"


This afternoon the Reed campus was enwrapped in a magical spell. The setting sun trickled through a line of clouds on the horizon, giving everything a strange light, like it was trying with everything it didn't have to keep from whispering that its oppression was actually controlled not by the nebulous masses covering it, but by the branches allowing a reflection equal to the painfully vibrant green you only see in overexposed photos in photography books.

The contrast between green and gray was painful and beautiful. The sparing gold hid the essence of that something that leads one to believe she's supposed to be understanding something. Like a suggestion that everything is not what I think it is, and time does not exist as ephemerally as I imagine, and that the dog that walks the halls of Vollum Hall really does know as much as I suspect he does.