“The darkening night, with plenty of artificial light, something available in Paris only?” Gun Roswell
The night upon, staying strong, the darkness never scary, so feeling daring, venturing into the streets of the city, because the lights are on, and there are plenty of, all kinds, the paths lit, to the hilt, and ain’t that just sweet, as this is, Paris, the city of lights, or something similar I think I once heard, but yeah, gorgeous, lively and totally cliche, but would not want to kiss any of it, the beat, the people, the ambiance. As only so, in the land of France.
“The sun is always setting, no matter whether in colour just might, even recorded in complete monochromatic format“ Gun Roswell
The sunset is always so totally beautiful and ever so colourful, and thus the experience of the various shades of oranges, yellows and reds, leave a good memory until the one coming next. But, then, when someone makes a change and the spectrum will change to pure grey, the monochromatic way of seeing things on display, what then of the beauty previously seen of this daily phenomena touching our personal screens, as usually, the flashy and burning colours were totally part of this, scheme for hooking up all to glare and cheer.
“Quite dull me thinks!” Some might say upon first glance, of the image taken from the sun setting over the horizon, as the greys may be a tad surprising, not really the full sparkling colours of the spectacle given by this star as going away for the night, which seemingly should be no surprise, but always is. But, after some time, the onlookers starting to see, the colours even if not quite there, in this monochromatic vision of the one who dared to make the decision and snap the image in black and white, even if it might just have given a fright, for most.
“I never travel without my camera. One should always record one’s steps if nothing else than for the future reference, especially during the days of change, even if it’s only, in monochrome” Gun Roswell
Rain, rain, rain But that dreaded and endless rain Running down the very drain
But, around in the City of London Without the feeling of any kind of boredom As there are too many things to see My little face, has finally lit up with a glee
“Tall and statuesque, the building made out of glass and steel, the skies pierce with shear will or perhaps it was by design?”Gun Roswell
The greater beauty of the tall high rise Is when something from the corner of an eye spies The reflections from the higher skies The mere stunning light of the sun shine
The colours may have faded Into a few black and white shades Some would even call it grey But the impact remains the same
The tall buildings built in the present Having the most of the times essence Looking up in awe in feeble human existence Standing before us all, without pretense
The modern marvels in monochromatic view Never disappointing, never leaving in blues Piercing the skies, this tall high rise It has a face and a photogenic smile
“Black and white is rather, abstract, agreed for sure, but still something quite tangible just like the fallen snow? Until it melts away!” Gun Roswell
Frost bitten branches and leaves Above a small dwelling still heave The wind cold and freezing Breathing in the throat keeps on wheezing “This weather, certainly takes your breath away” Just be careful not too long to stay Warm mittens and a thick coat And certainly a woolen scarf for that throat
“In the past, life was black and white or at least some kind of greyish colouring scheme going on all around the place? I mean, they had yet to invent colour, right?” Gun Roswell
Winter continues with all its muster Snow pouring down, faster and faster The forest with its trees covered in light Powdery crystals in the colour of white A passageway in front quite clear Do not hesitate or fear Take a step into the wonder and delight And soon you have something about to write
“In the past, life was as black and white as that, right? Just check out the ole movies! Not a hint of colour!” Gun Roswell
Snow covering, all of the land Just like designed and planned The Winter’s hand Lays heavily on each strand Not one inch de-clutched Not one place untouched Nature has made its mark With a white noiseless bark
“Sunset by the lake, taking a slow boat across the moat, just to watch the spectacle” Gun Roswell
It’s no fake, the setting sun playing, the vivid colours laying all across the sky and land
It’s that time of the day, the setting of the sun at hand
Folks gathered from both near and far, just to have a glimpse of the spectacle, observing with mouths ajar Those daring, will try to reach the sun and the sky, before it’s too late
Slipping in their boats across the large size moat of a lake, without time to hesitate
Rowing, rowing, rowing their tiny hearts away, just to bask in the display
“It’s cozy, inviting, it’s comfy, you can sleep in it, it’s a chair for sure, but yeah, something so special, life in it will be easy to endure.” Gun Roswell
Once again, time has been gone by in a whirlwind week, without much room to breathe, the lazy day is here, like it was just yesterday I was here, in the same place, the clock ticking away. But today, no matter what else there is to slay, work, tasks, life, I will take it easy and stay, in on single spot the whole day, no matter whom shall come a knocking on the door, ceiling or even the floor. I am not moving from my own designated spot.
And if someone would like to call me lazy for this single act of selfishness, then be my guest, as I really could not care less. As it said in the ancient song of the past, this one day, is my day of rest, and unless you have some other suggestion to make me rethink my current position, then please, leave me alone, seated in my special spot, from the zero hour on the dot, until another one strikes on the clock, my ass is not moving unless nature is calling, or then, if the house around me should be falling. This is my day to stay, immobile and for now, that is a status simply fine.
