Sky

[squirmelia]

Don't walk towards the sun.

If The Diary of Unexpected Skies had been found, I would have written about the sky in there, but perhaps the sky had become too ordinary sometime in the past and I had discarded the notion of such a book.

I was somewhere near Sway when it happened. Mesmerised by the clouds moving faster than I had ever seen before, I felt giddy and rubbed my eyes. They looked almost magnetised and swirling, swarming towards one particular point, as if a vortex had appeared in the sky.

That day, I also went to Bats Bush; saw spiders hanging from the roots of fallen trees; traipsed past fly agaric; stood still as a red admiral butterfly circled me; decided to always cross bridges; photographed the reflections of trees in a river; searched for my own reflection in a puddle; and on my return to Southampton, the sun began to set and the sky became pink, blue and purple.