As we approach the winter solstice, the sun, as if trying to compensate somehow his daily premature retirement, gets closer: His rays reach us in a more horizontal angle, as if the lightning technician switched the zenital light for a lateral focus, pointing at us right from one side of the stage.
I hurry back from work and all the way along I can see the shadows increasing in lenght as the sun lows down.
I know that this complimentary show doesn’t last long. When I reach home, about four, it’s been running already for an hour. A golden light fills generously the living room and bedroom. I enter as if it was a pool of light.
On weekends we can afford to be on time for the beginning of the show and make it coincide with lunch. Then, the light wave reaches the table, it spreads across the white table linen and the dish with the salad shines full of colors like a coral reef.
I amuse myself looking at the shadows of the glas full water, turned a prism.
Afterwards my bed invites me to a nap; receiving the sun it is like a bathtub full of light instead of water. I lie down, close my eyes and perceive the tangent winter light almost like a tactile sensation…
