Sun, 26 April

CLOUD DIARY — filed under: patience Sunday: billowing, bruised at the left temple, as if the week had already started wrong. Monday: flat-bottomed, sullen, the face of someone who has heard this excuse before. Tuesday: gauze. Barely there. Still counts. Wednesday: interior light. The sun has not given up; it has simply stopped trying in public. Thursday: (page torn here) Friday: the rose-mauve one. The aberration. The one you circle and return to. Saturday: same as Sunday, but the stone remembers all the previous Saturdays pressed into it, pale halos of what it used to be, revision laid over revision, until the grey is not grey at all but the accumulated weight of looking up.