The darkness carries a certain strangeness. The world is slowly turning, wobbling, towards the solstice. We wake up in darkness, go to work in darkness, go home in darkness and fall to sleep in darkness. There is a familiarity to it; we spent the first nine months of our life in darkness. There is a comfort to the darkness, and yet we are also comforted by the light. Today I stopped an answer to a question mid-flow. I halted it and left it hanging because I realised the bell was about to go. I stopped taking and threw two sets of books into canvas bags to take home. Bad lesson planning could be to blame, or bad time keeping. Then I ran out to meet the climbers to roll call and ferry down to the climbing wall. As I waited for them to congregate I had a celebration of light in the middle of this darkness. The sky was blue and freezing cold and the moon hung in its arch. It is fattening and growing close to full; the cold moon. As we stood around, moaning and groaning about the cold, I asked if they could see the hare on the moon. They all looked at me as if I was half mad, half ‘wired to the moon’. No, they said their eye sight was not that good, they could not see the hair on the moon. They were not on my train of thought at all.
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