June 1st, 2013

08-2007

rage against the dying of the light

The French called this time of day l'heure bleue. To the English it was the gloaming. The very word 'gloaming' reverberates, echoes - the gloaming, the glimmer, the glitter, the glisten, the glamour - carrying in its consonants the images of houses shuttering, gardens darkening, grass-lined rivers slipping through the shadows. During the blue nights you think the end of the day will never come. As the blue nights draw to a close (and they will, and they do) you experience an actual chill, an apprehension of illness, at the moment you first notice; the blue light is going, the days are already shortening, the summer is gone. [...] Blue nights are the opposite of the dying of the brightness, but they are also its warning.
Joan Didion, Blue Nights



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