21 June, 1989

We sat together on her rock under a calming grey sky, one which guaranteed we wouldn’t have to suffer the joyful expectations of sunlight; and she put her head on my shoulder with a sigh heavy enough to prove we were shrouded in fog. The sky had come to cover us, to place its infinite fingers on us in comfort: the most benevolent deity we had any longer. 

Persephone delightfully splashed through the water as it lapped at the sand, carrying the stick I’d tossed for her but not ready to return it to me yet. Each wave she crashed onto the bank sounded like a minor chord, and the breeze carried mournful notes along with it in accent. The entire landscape before us was so sad, as if each ancient hill had broken for us. The discourteous world, for once, seemed to understand how we loathed its incessant turning. Maybe it wanted to stop, maybe it had no choice but to keep spinning; maybe it was sorry.

Process

First toned with Derwent Inktense, and then done in gouache. On Kilimanjaro watercolour paper.