good-bye to all this

My favorite thing about the Portland apartment is the light. The space has a perfect layout--Southwestern exposure, enormous windows in each room. Often the cat and I follow the light throughout the day: in the kitchen under the sunlights in the early morning, into the dining room for the mid-morning light, to the study for the mid-day, and into the sun-room to catch the golden hour. Of course, it is often longer than an hour, and often not even golden: fuschia and pink predominate. The late afternoon light is the second most compelling reason to live in this state. Eight months on the East Coast this year helped me distill precisely what the distinction is: warm undertones. On the east, the afternoon light has blue and purple undertones; the west coast brings out the red and gold base. In the afternoon, the sunroom floods with golden pink shadows; buildings carry a salmon-colored five-o'clock shadow.

The other day, biking with my buddy, I made a tiny ode to the beauty of the afternoon light. He gave me a look, then said earnestly: I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that. I cracked up. S'ok. You can just say, Yeah.
Boys.