|The end of days|
Z or Dead
Yesterday the sky, realising that soon we'd see nothing of the sun, put on a bit of a show. I woke and ate breakfast while outside it was just growing light. I walked to work as high clouds spread thinly around the huge sky and slowly turned a gentle pink. Thicker lower clouds along the horizon burnt with waves of orange fire.
As the afternoon passed a low dirty mist settled over the ice, the tops of masts and buildings just peeking clear into the blue above. Storm clouds gathered in the East and caught the sinking sun, casting light from the clouds like the fires behind one of Turner's ships.
Later that evening the mist remained, smearing out the lights of our crouching buildings. Trapped in a stable pool the fog was thin enough above our heads to allow a clean view of the galaxy bounding overhead. Jupiter hung brightly to the East. Satelites crept their straight way between the stars and raced the streaking trails of shooting stars.
The landscape at Halley is harsh, plain, boring even, but shifting skies, the play of light and colour on layers of clouds, cold clear stars and sharp circles of halos add an edge of magic to each day and every night.
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