:: And so the world turns ::

The sun was pure poetry today - fierce and brilliant; ungentle, ferociously burning the dawn into a cerulean canvas. I haven't watched the sky in a while - and now when I do, I think of Julian. He used to read the sky, as though the horizon was a Messiah of untold truths. In that way he was hopelessly romantic; he was spiritually sensitive and saw beauty in rain and old trees and tattered leaves.

I miss that sort of perspective now that the Crazy Welshman is gone; there is no one to point casually into the smoggy distance and marvel at the swirl of clouds that collide at a wind-swept moment. There is no one to admire the stoic stories of old trees, the transient passion of the monsoon rain, the majestic colour of autumn. He brought a humane, humbling element into my first corporate existence. He made me believe that humanity was what mattered - not human resource.

Cem - I hope you're still looking at the Old Sky and wishing for the caress of your Desert Wind. Shalom.

***

Oh dear. I'm getting sentimental.