The afternoon was wan. The day had gradually lost its colour, as if all the light was being sucked out of the sky. Hitherto, there had been the definite suggestion of spring, a mildness in the air which allowed long-hunched shoulders to release all their tension at last after a long, cold winter. But now that daubing warmth from the paintbrush of the sun was as good as a distant memory, and once again he suspected he would remain forever trapped in a one hundred year-winter.
A wild slim alien 
March 1, 2014 at 2:17 am
Log Lady! The song feels cold, as do I, feeling as very much this is an adequate description of what has been my day.
March 1, 2014 at 2:08 pm
Yes, unwittingly I seem to have stumbled upon a psychic link between myself and David Lynch. Which goes some way to explaining things.
March 1, 2014 at 5:30 pm
Sounds like a link worth exploring to its fullest.