floral maxi-dress - Elle for Kohl's
denim vest - Levi's, thrifted
sandals - Kohl's
black clutch - borrowed from my mum
[photos taken by my mum :)]
The afternoons are colourless here. The greens - if any exist - are pale and sleepy, the browns and greys become dominant, and the sky acts as an uncomfortable, too-warm wool blanket, drained of blueness. The only object of interest in the blank sky is the moon at night. It shines with an alarming intensity, too bright for the heat we've had here. Granted, temperatures have fallen, and thank goodness for it - one can only handle sitting in a boiling pot for so long, even if it is one's home-town.
I spoke, I shopped, I read, I slept, I picked up my old violin today. I had't played in over a year, and I was very nearly surprised to find I'd missed it. Beginning with book one, I played through my Suzuki repertoire, applying the same passion to "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star" as to Dvorak's "Humouresque". I caught myself swaying. Though I played the strings like a child - sloppily, notes spilling onto one another like a haphazard fountain - I was happy to do so; to behold the old, damaged-but-beautiful instrument (chipped varnish and all), to pull forth music from paper, to surprise myself by still remembering nearly every piece by heart.
I'd forgotten how potent this joy was, the joy of being the source of music.
PS - I'll introduce you to my new/old friend the violin next time.