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Haolun came over last night and stayed over. It’s funny how in the intimacy of darkness the anchors underlying all our pretences and acts in the light finally surface: at the end of the day all there really is and ever was, the dim parallax of our existences, are girls. He compared the act of speaking into the darkness to a phone call: trusting the other to your voice and to your feelings, all the while never knowing whether the other was still there, still listening, or if they’d fallen asleep, or the connection had been dropped. For a moment I felt a sharp pang of… I don’t really know what it was, let alone how to describe it, but what he said reminded me of Lacey, and that filled me with a kind of brief, immense sadness. 

Later, Sawyer came over and we prepared dinner: cuts of lamb steak with potato and rice stew. It turned out very well. I showed him how to make a White Russian – well, my version of it, at least – which he liked very much. It was a very pleasant evening and the air was crisp and bright, and the sky filled with a hazy vanilla light. We watched the first two episodes of Watchmen afterwards. 

I was able to successfully complete the bulk of the work I had set out to accomplish for today’s #screenshotsaturday post by mid-afternoon, and get it live shortly thereafter. I was also able to publish the entry for firestarting that I’d said I’d eventually post two weeks ago: so today was a productive day, all things considered. My next post will most likely be about either hunger, or sleep. I think I’ll do a bit of work tomorrow as well: I’m gonna start recording and compiling some stuff for the trailer and put it up in a folder. The sooner it starts to take form, however rudimentary that form may be, the better I’ll be able to visualise it, and the more I’ll have to work with.