"Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone ..." William Wordsworth

23 December 2019

Smoke-colored.


Looking through my bedroom window, out into the moonlight and the unending smoke-colored snow, I could see the lights in the windows of all the other houses on our hill and hear the music rising from them up the long, steadily falling night. I turned the gas down, I got into bed. I said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then I slept.

Dylan Thomas, from A Child's Christmas in Wales

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