It's annoying you can't put tags on blog posts here. Ah how I miss my live journal.
Anyway, more nanorumination.
Her favourite band is The Cocteau Twins. She loves their shimmering pastel coloured seascapes, and Liz Fraser's lyrics that make no sense and somehow you know exactly she means. I've been going for walks listening to their music lately. They are the perfect autumnal band. I live in a small town, which is rubbish, but by the sea, which is great. One of my favourite things is to walk to the beach at dusk, just as the sky is changing from blue to lilac, and look up the coast to the fishing village to the north of here. It must be about eight miles away, the shore curving like an open fan. Hills bank steeply down to the sea, Haven clings to the narrow strip of shore. From Pingley during the day you can make out nondescript little white squares of houses, but when the daylight begins to fade the streetlights come on. The sky turns pale violet and Haven turns into a brush stroke of shimmering orange and toffee apple coloured lights. I love to stand by myself among the marram grass at Pingley beach and watch Haven at twilight. The lights actually thrum like a heartbeat, from right to left (or east to west) through Haven. I didn't know electricity moved like that. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
It doesn't last long. Quickly the moment passes and I'm no longer living inside a Monet painting. It starts getting properly dark. The light loses it's ethereal quality and becomes opaque and hard. The streetlights in Haven attain a solidity and diamond hardness. It's still beautiful, but everything is cold and the magic has gone. I'm suddenly aware I'm a woman alone in the dark on a beach and I feel vulnerable and a bit scared.
I walk back home alone.