Yesterday, I was part of an evening power outage after a long time. I realize now how much I've missed it. I went over to the home of a friend and we were sitting out by the river on the most beautiful Strand I can remember. But more than that I had thoughts of home. Of evenings where schoolbooks were joyously put aside to run to the window and curl up with the summer breeze blowing. All of civilization awash with varying shades of the milk of moonlight as the lunar cycle progressed. The candle flickering in the kitchen as the eggs were still curried, the rotis still rolled and toasted on the stove. That moment when every single light went out on the Strand? That was my madeleine dipped in weak tea. And I couldn't think of better company than my friend sitting next to me. She claimed that her town was pulling out all the stops for me and apparently she was seeing sights with me that she'd never seen happening before. Felt very good to know. Sense of powerless power, if anyone can understand what that means. I'm not sure I do myself. Except that it feels right describing it like that.
This is not a picture of the blackout. This is a generic blackout. Sort of glad it isn't.
There are moments which are meant to be magical. That evening was one of them.
I realize I've missed a power outage much more than I ever thought I could or would.
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