falling clouds and god-light

There is a bluish rain cloud covering three-quarters of the sky. Every two minutes, the rain falls sideways, and then stops, all while the last vestiges of the pale yellow sunlight sink behind the western foothills; the rays of holy light shooting straight up like the arms of someone falling, reaching for something staying put at the edge of the cliff, on the surface of the lake.

The weather on the way back home was a Dalmatian, with bursts of fervent rainfall hitting the windshield like benign bullets, amidst otherwise perfect springtime skies.

I had the greatest urge all weekend to stand on the apple box and hold you. I could bury my face in your neck and absorb the scent of your skin. You could cup your hand the back of my head and bury your face in my hair and barely smell a thing. Something about that fact makes me sad; scent is my favorite memory trigger, second only to music. (Touch is a powerful one, too, but rare for me.)

This weekend exceeded my expectations, personally and professionally. This was probably the most fun I've ever had on a set, in the most professional environment. And I guess I actually look great in 4x1080 megapixels, so that's great.

You are just...you are an awesome person. I hope you weren't too sick of my presence by the end. I don't want you to be sick of me.

Just...I have a lot of gut feelings that were tossed messily on the desk that I need to sort out and organize and just...process. A lot of processing. Maybe there will be better, or at least, more, writing at the end of that.

In the meantime, I'll bask in those feelings. Hot springs. Not ever wanting to leave. By the end of tomorrow, sure, my hopes will have fallen back down to a reasonable level.

In case you ever find this, I can only hope that you at least like the way I write.