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Thursday, December 5, 2013

Poetic Prose

In the portuguese language the word "tempo" can mean both time and weather. This fact had not struck me until, one day, in London, a tree branch pounding on my window and the groaning of the wind outside disturbed my writing.
As I looked through the glass, I saw the naked trees of the nearby forest being pushed by an irate, invisible force, along with an incessant cloudburst. As close a thing to a storm, without thunder and lightning,as possible. I turned back to my page, glad to have a refuge.
Barely an hour had passed before I looked outside again, except this time the sky was a light blue and the whirlwind and deluge had given way to a soft breeze and sunlight. The day went on, continuously switching between the two weathers; this made me realise just how indefinable "tempo" is.