Living light captures, listening to “Soldier of Love” (by Sade), sight. From the corner of my eye, a flame, on wood panel near bed. Scent of Taiyo Byakudan, dreamy sandalwood, lofty amber, honeyed clean. Not flame, but the sun setting, hot and steeply-sliced through northern window, shimmers by wind-rustling coconut palm, presently as perpetual motion. Shifting moods of ever-late afternoon, captured there, sinks heavenly warmth toward evening, fades to cool, and fevered comfort wraps thoughts in blankets, whether to let go or pull it closer. Either way waits dewfall so it’s time to bring the laundry in.
