The sky, mid-afternoon, a beautiful canvas graced with sky blues and pure milky whites. The blue in the depths beyond and the smooth, rounded, sugary sweet clouds in the foreground; February mornings were made to be like this. Stained white wooden porches, green plastic lawn and garden chairs and a yellow butterfly dancing above the steamy urban pavement with an invisible partner to a made up song.
The sun is warm in the afternoon, the beautiful lie is the warm love of the father. In the winter sky, the warm afternoon sun adds a touch of warmth to the sky. It is is the most charming in my eyes. It is not as tender as sunrise or as bright as sunset. Like a amiable mother, it always leaves a warm color where she passes by., Warm, with some romance, mixed with the illusion of youth.
the bri
