From silver-white to heavenly-black, the picture in greys has a soothing quality, as if it were a lullaby for the eyes and spirit.
Grey comes to my dreams as if to form a pencil sketch, a structure for the vivid hues to follow.
The sky was of silver hues, molten, swirling in steady and radiating arcs. In this coming of the storm I love the greys of every shade and depth. I could swim in the atmosphere so subtly electric, alive with an excitement for what is to come.
The door was the grey of unburnished silver, as pretty as a dappled horse, as reassuring as all ancient things that remain so strong.
In the earth lay a glimpse of metal, the grey of vintage silver - not all the way to black but instead a patina of many shades. Tamsin bent to rescue it, it was a cup of sorts with one handle and a hinged lid that defied movement. With the hem of her shirt she polished it clean before wrapping it in cloth and placing it in her pack.
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