I just switched the light off a few minutes ago to try to get some sleep but I've had to power up my iPhone to tell you all about the magnificent night that's pouring in through the window onto me.
The window's wide open onto the garden and the curtains are pulled back as far as they can go. I can smell flowers and crushed pine needles, fragrances that carry over to me on the warm evening air.
And the room is flooded with the white light of the moon that seems to be balancing on top of the row of pines at the bottom of the garden like a great big football that the little boy next door keeps kicking up on top of our hedge. The moonbeams illuminate everything in the room and they even feel cold as they land on my skin as I lie roasting on top of the bed. My body looks strange in this searching light that has travelled from space into my bedroom.
Now that I'm awake again I might just thrown on clothes, not many, and go and drink whiskey in the garden and get further drenched in the moonlight over Belfast.
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Thingummy
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