photo: I am not sure how the surreal colours could show  through the window, but there it is, the West Coast, in the so aptly called Grey District, a place where I would not want to live but certainly like to visit, one of those places where nature is taking so much room that one has no time for anything else. 

 only the hush of trees and sky

one dissolves into the rhythm of the air, the light because

there  is no clock here and  

the landscape does not speak yet

everything is said and life— not a story but

a stillness against the window