A beautiful early autumn afternoon in Leeds. Walking through the canyon-like grid of the city centre, where the lowering sun cast deep shadows contrasting with periodic bright shafts of light, picking out the occasional building with every detail thrown into sharp, high-definition relief. Walking down Beeston Hill, where a landscape still predominantly green spread before me, interrupted by isolated blazes of red and yellow with the distant looming skyline lit from behind. And a perfect cool blue sky, broken only by the contrails of airliners at cruising altitude - not the small jets rattling chimneypots on their final, noisy approach into Leeds, but the big four-engined long-rangers pounding westwards, glinting in the setting sun as they chased the nightline across the Atlantic. All that was missing was someone to share it with; I closed my eyes and imagined her slender fingers enclosed in my hand. But if shes somewhere watching me, shed have known that it was the sort of day that once upon a time made me feel glad to be alive.
Posted on: Fri, 26 Sep 2014 17:58:01 +0000
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