Sunday, June 11, 2006

More on the pink sun

Just about this time last year I returned home from a month in Zambia. It was an experience that has stayed with me in more ways than I can count, not all of them comfortable, but I fell a little bit in love with warm African nights, with their scent-laden, leaf rustling, star-gazing gorgeousness. I would sit outside nursing a Scotch on ice, reading by citronella candlelight and wishing I still smoked.

But the sunsets are rubbish. At six o'clock every day the sun falls out of the sky. One minute it's daylight, four minutes later it's as black as your hat.

When I came home, I lay in a long, hot, essential-oil scented bath, scrubbing weeks of dirt from places dribbly showers just don't reach, and then I wrapped myself in a huge bath sheet, lay down on my bed and wished everyone in the world could have a long hot bath, a big soft towel and a room of their own. The world would surely be a better place if they did.

And as I saw the pink sun hanging in the sky I wished everyone in the world could see a long summer sunset too. It doesn't change your life, but it creates a little space in which to be glad you're alive.



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