Bright hard sunshine filters through the undulating green mosaic canopy. Lighting up the drowsy afternoon. Voices filter through the hazy scented air. Slow ceiling fan chasing lazy bugs.
Lovely sunshine, so lifelike. Hard, glittering and beautiful.
Who cares for sunset? Do sunsets exist at all? Who has time for sunset? Sunshine lasts forever, or does it not?
I want to stand in the sun, to absorb its gold. To bake and blister. Burnt copper. Would I risk so much pain for a few paltry rays of gold? Maybe I would. Just to learn the sun’s secret of eternal beauty and youth.
Hungry sunshine desiccates the earth. It does not spare the desert, does it? How unfeeling can one get? My parched plants must be withering away. Merciless sun, bouncing gleefully off the wounded, scorched earth. And you say women are hard!
The green canopy dances in the sunny afternoon breeze. Little puddles ripple as playful sunshine brings them to life. Glorious sunshine, giver of life. Coming down from the heavens on a golden chariot drawn by seven celestial horses. I wish you could take me away.
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