Don't tell my professors. But on route to Toronto, whilst sitting squarely for eight hours, I read an interest piece in the British Vogue on the concept of 'Twilight'. Charlotte Sinclair reflects:
Later still, lost on a South American hillside, the gloaming became malevolent, dangerous, evoking thoughts of gothic stories where vampires stir as light fades; a time when, as Blake described, the stars 'wash the dusk with silver' before 'the wolf rages wide, and the lion glares thro' the dun forest'. Not for nothing do the French refer to twilight as entre chien et loup - the moment when peaceable dog becomes wolf. (October issue)
I can't tell you exactly what I was doing today at 'that violet hour' (TS Eliot) but I suspect it was nothing glamorous or worth telling - standing in a queue at customs for a considerable length of time is hardly 'malevolent', 'dangerous' or 'thought-evoking'. I can, however, tell you that I am now at the cusp of another liminal space: when, following French logic, that wolf returns as a peaceable dog.
* * *
5:30 a.m.
Andrea's apartment is cozy and chic. It has all the modern essentials: dark hardwood floors, granite countertops and bathroom tiles, and floor to ceiling windows. Near one wall stands a wide, flat-screen tv, and in an adjacent area, the breakfast space is adorned with adjustable bar stools. It is simple, clean, but not without personality. Books representive of nearly each stage of her life line the shelves (from Lewis's Chronicles to her current CICA Candidate Handbooks, appropriately flagged with sticky tabs), and the overwhelming (but beautiful) metal frame that holds her high-topped bed betrays a girlishness sometimes hid.
I recount these details in order to paint the feel (my supervisor would now ask: can you 'paint' a feeling? I will defiantly say 'yes, this is a concious word choice') of the room I am sitting in while night once again resigns to day, when twilight colours show themselves in reverse. I sit cross-legged on a floor-lain matress with sleeping beauty beside me and watch the backdrop of the skyscrapers fade into lighter shades. It's a different feel from small town Cambridge, where light tickles your face and bird songs fill your ear when you wake. Instead, there is a human majesty about the buildings that actually scrape the sky. You feel so small admist these tall giants.
Daybreak feels different here. But it is beautiful and quieting in its own way. It promises its own possibilities. Nearly 6:45 a.m. now. Can feel the presence of day on my shoulders.
Wonder what it will bring.
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