It is always cloudy when I go to downtown. Today was no exception. The aquarium had everything from penguins to whale-sharks, sea-otters to jelly-fish, dolphins to octopuses, piranhas to sting-rays, sea-dragons to sea-turtles... It was massive. And felt quite amazing to be surrounded by life-forms inhabiting the same earth and yet so unlike us in appearance and methods of adaptation.
It was very difficult taking photos without flash, when most exhibits were somewhat dimly lit and there was constant motion.
Edit (before hitting the bed) -
After a hearty dinner, I find a cozy sofa in Barnes and Noble to sink into with my cup of hot chocolate and Mary Oliver. It is beautiful poetry, and though the uncharacteristic pop music isn't really in sync, it is easy to shut down the ears a bit, allowing the music to mellow down. It is perfect. The old lady sitting on the sofa in front of me is absorbed in her book. Shoppers are few and far between. Some occupy quiet corners on the floor. I could be there for hours with the book but the loudspeakers announce "inclement" weather and an early closure. I come back, the few yards outside enough to turn my extremities cold. It is silent, a kind of foreboding, carrying potential, the pause before a change.
Back indoors I turn the heating high as the speakers play Andre Rieu, Itzhak Perlman and Katica Illényi. I tend to favour the piano over the violin, but today violin seems just right. The evening swirls upon the strings. I wonder if I should turn the heating down when I notice it isn't as warm, so I let it be. And then I pull the curtains apart. And stand still. Outside snow swirls, little playful puffs not purposeful like rain but whimsical like a little child dance outside my window. The ground is white. The large parking lot, which in the morning was full is now empty. Empty and white. The trees have lost most of their greens and browns. It's 6 inches already. I run down with the camera. This is the now.
- Nikon D90