Girl Half Empty

//What an odd thing a diary is: the things you omit are more important than those you put in//
- Simone de Beauvoir
/June winner of the diary competition/

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36. //Nothing gold can stay//

25th October

Freshness after rain. Breath seems to take up more space, like the air it’s made of has drunk itself fat. Frost swollen. Big with the winter child it carries.

Blue sky both pure and diluted. The sun stained our cobalt ceiling until it was as pale as the flesh of a pear; crystallised sapphire with green and yellow and white stirred through it.

As though through a newly rinsed window, the world I see has more clarity than before. Precision in the leaf rime that creeps them green to gold. Tattooed along the veins with liver spots. We all age the same way – with reluctance – until we are weathered and untethered from the trees.

I’ve never stopped loving autumn. But we all burn like birch candles.
 

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