Courses of thin shafts – the remains of nightly stratocumulus evocations – the bright facades of ghostly buildings, collapsing in the elongated heaps of an arcane sprawl.
Sunlight comes with gross reminders of the advantages of seasonal adjustments to inclement discharge.
We reap the benefits of light, breaking the surface of our distess with the calm relief of washing ourselves up on solar beaches.
The stratocumulus returns throughout the day, but with a nonchalance of colour distortions.
I walk through the electrified gloom of a Gothic masterpiece.
The north is delivered in realms of the constant provocations of its grandeur.
The crepuscular unravelling of stratocumulus and altocumulus variations, of cumulus rogues and the cumulus fractus dissipations gathering in a united embroidery of colour and shade.
Luminations blanch the bases of the multitudinous calamity.
Colour has returned to the sky chambers that have wrecked their walls and spread the vastness to a continuum of sulkily unfolding marvels.
The atmospheric conditions of a prevailing normalcy are uniquely refined, proving that science, for its simplicity, is the best form of complex enjoyment.
The Pentlands – supreme whiteness of the glaze of Winter that consumes the full compactness of its range.
No lethargy of instances crushed like a paste that coats the world in spiritless uniformity.
The detonations of the dawn spread motions over the bleakest aspects of the north.
Enlivened revelations make Springtime possible within our thinking centres.
All of a sudden, the mood must change.
The deadworld stratus hangs over the land like a sustained attack of chemical warfare.
It is unnatural – muddied with brown influences through its grey pallor – like a form of pollution in the spirit that depresses everything to points of moribund desperation.
The snow is spread in bleak recessions that cling to the landscape like mindless factions of ill-intent.
This is not the reality of snowfall.
It is a human imposition of adjustments to the behaviour of climate – a hideous means of interference that undermines the coherence of Nature.
The banality of careless attitudes towards Nature has become the characteristic mode of its expression of the consequences of the deadend mentality of such anthropocentric excesses.
It is the eradication of the character of Nature –
The reduction of its diversity to a uniform aspect of its throttled potentials.
Positions of uncertainty.
We exist in a suspended world of inanimate consequences.
It loses its capacity to engender cause and effect.
Without causes, without effects, the absence of motion as an inducement to hard drinking.
We colour the world with temporary measures of altered states.
The comfort blanket is equally a bed of nails.
We fall within the confines of inaction.
There is nothing to be done.
We drink ourselves to a fury of annihilating the moments before us.
These false assumptions of mobility are a rehersal for the world’s end.
We are playing the endgames of nightmare scenarios.
We are stranded in the centre of an urban vacuum.
It is the ultimate absence.
It is an infestation of hopeless waiting.
The sky descends like a warped intention that cannot exist.
But it does.
Nature has been stripped of its typical garments.
It walks the road of trials without the movement of its suspended functions.
We remain within the grip of a blank intensity.
Our spirits are crushed by the lack of everything.
Portaits of armaggedon.
Snow-covered expectations of the homeward steps.
We stutter to a standstill in the zones of humanity.
The world has become a cardboard cut out.
It has drained itself of its vital properties.
It is a black and white photgraph, never developed properly beyond its negative chemical blights.