I’m not much for the light. I like the shadows. There’s nothing to be afraid of there in the shadows. Most times, the worst thing in the shadows, if you find yourself there, is you.
The sun has no draw for me. It’s either too hot or not warm enough. The shadows, though, you always know what you’re getting. On hot Southern days, it’s like sliding into a cool lake if you find the right shade in which to take refuge. The sun tries to kill me those days, and the shade comes in like a knight on a dark horse to rescue me.
There’s no trick to them. The shadows aren’t anything. Just an absence of light. A place where light cannot penetrate. A nothing.
It’s nice there, in the shadows. Sometimes they comfort me. Other times they conceal me. And not a lot of people are big fans of them, so I know when I meet someone else in the shadows that I’ve found one of my own—most times.
Maybe I will find that parallel world someday where the sun is black. Think of it.
Close your eyes.
A black sun that emits shadow instead of light and where the shadows are supposed to be, light.
Well, where we think the shadows are supposed to be.
I might enjoy that world.
For a little while anyway.
I reworked this from something old I wrote once, so the words are mine. The pictures are mine. This blog, for good or bad, is mine.
That’s it. That’s the post.