- it's not a slow dance this modern romance -

I miss the tiny earthquakes.

There's something wrong with that sentence, something not entirely sane. But the earthquakes in Japan - the little ones, at least - were effective reminders of mortality as much as they were conversation fodder: did you feel it too?; where were you?; let's dance, we're alive.

This minus-thirty coldsnap is less poetic though prettier - the sparkle of hoarfrost on the dying birch outside my window puts to shame any of the pots of glitter languishing unused at the back of my cosmetic drawer. Cold is reactionary. The cold season is one of reaching for blankets, for the arms of friends and paramours to steady stutter-steps on ice-slicked sidewalks, is telling stories and drinking mugs of summer steeped in linen sachets to bring feeling back. But earthquakes are revolutionary - they shook the ground, they shook me awake; awake, and alive.

(Halfway to hibernation, I need that jolt now more than ever.)


♥ music of the moment: into the dark (...and I want that piano-thing. XD)
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