Unconscious Rivals, Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema
56,580, and holding. Deep freeze has descended on Silk River. It’s fallen off the mountain and into a crevasse and now lies between blue-white walls of ice. It’s deep; it’s cold, and I can’t get a foothold, not even a pinion is getting through the ice. So…we hang suspended from the last lonely crag; watching ice crystals form.
May gray has given way to June gloom, every morning swaddled in melancholy, but the jacarandas are in bloom, giving beauty to these days of dismal light, their wide-spread branches casting lacy purple exuberance against the gray air, the bone-pale sky, raining lavendar petals over cars and curbs, roofs and sidewalks. Blossoming jacarandas are my favorite thing about this otherwise moody month. Wish Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema had them in his dream-scapes.
While Silk River lies in its ice-bound crevasse, The Key to Chaos, 7,045 words, is gradually blossoming, but I’m going to have to pause and brainstorm a bit. Why was Marius Catalin murdered? Who was Marius Catalin anyway? Is there something significant about Indera Catalina’s death too? Beyond the obvious tragedy of it?