The right words. They are elusive. (Rare? Aloof?)
You say potato, I say potato – lets call the whole thing off (doesn’t work so well written down, I see).
I’ve been thinking about the sky. How do you describe it? Should you even do so, anymore than to say how its mood affects the characters and action you are creating?
The sky I can see now is a hazy field of white cloud, with some slim murmurings of grey and patches of carefree mild blue. It is affecting me with its neutrality.
But the other evening I saw a sky of crisp baby blue with fat glowing clouds, bright orangey-pink and yellow, like generous towers of peach melba ice cream.
Its effect on me was to make my heart salivate, with a hunger for the neon thrills of the coming night.
The sky. Ten possible descriptions:
Big empty upland.
A mirror sea of fish-birds and submarine-aeroplanes.
A swirling soup of molecules.
The glassy eye of a storm harbouring God.
Sullen shifting space.
Ethereal land of drifting castles and vanishing dragons of light and shade.
Motheaten blanket.
The great candy-floss spinner.
Dark fields of the wind, wildly strewn with daisies of light.
Breathing blue expanse of slow-breaking waves, the spume crested clouds.
