Reports From Unknown Places

Digital painting of a sunrise sky, a pale blue sky with a layer of haphazard, pink clouds in the background, half-covered with some long blue-purple, fuzzy clouds.

We report when the dawn chorus is at its loudest, even over the morning traffic. All edges of the world are still blurry, whether it is from our sleep-filled eyes, or the simple fact of the dim light. It is chilly, and we are not all the way present, but we feel a little warm.

Digital painting of a black night sky, covered in stars, some of them colourful, and translucent, purple, fuzzy clouds in the bottom half of the frame.

We report: if we find colours in the deep night sky, we have to wonder how many of them are of our imagination, with our mind gone soft and mushy in the darkness. There is rhythm in the pitter patter of rain and dew dripping from foliage, keeping us grounded despite it all.

We report as we are looping our scarf for the second time, and our expert is looking for their gloves. It has been cold for a few days, and we know it still is just from looking through the window. This morning, we noticed the rain from last night had frozen over on windshields.

We report as we are looping our scarf for the second time, and our expert is looking for their gloves. It has been cold for a few days, and we know it still is just from looking through the window. This morning, we noticed the rain from last night had frozen over on windshields.

Digital painting of a partly cloudy sky, a mash-up of swirling, torn up clouds colliding into one another in large swoops.

We report: at last, the chaos in the sky accurately represents the chaos of the weather we have been observing lately. We reckon we shall meet maximum entropy at any moment. This, at least, is something we know of November, a device of constant, unexpected changes.

Digital painting of a sunset sky, dark grey clouds expanding into a pale blue sky. Some of the clouds are bathed in orange light, highlighting their smooth texture.

We report on a day spent watching clouds rise, and then fall as soon as they stopped soaring, unable to hold their shapes. We feel the loss of each degree of temperature as the evening goes on, our numb face when we talk. Hailstones are gathered in strange places on the ground.

Digital painting of a twilight sky, dark blue, with some clouds catching fading yellow light. In the shadows, they become almost black. There are shreds of smaller clouds scattered across the frame.

We report after sunset, looking out towards the east. The weak glow on the clouds is like someone has turned off the light, but left the door ajar as they went. The nightlight flickers; we get to see the last cloud melt into the night before it starts raining.

Digital painting of a dark, cloudy sky. The clouds are forming erratic, wavy patterns, intertwined, letting some light come through between blue shadows.

We report: we felt cold, so we walked fast, and now we feel too warm. This is the way it goes. In the clouds, corroding steel wool is unraveling, scratching up the whole sky across. Whatever bird we see is flying near the ground. We hear hail coming in the distance.

Digital painting of a bright blue sky filled with tall clouds: in the foreground, voluminous and bubbly, one white, and the other, dark grey. In the background and to the right, something much wispier, a cumulonimbus with fuzzy edges, grey and white.

We report in the early afternoon, when the sun is still high and white. Something has changed in the atmospheric pressure, after weeks of the same. We do not know the exact correlation between all these warm, cold fronts, anticyclones and depressions… But we know it is cold now.

Digital painting of a partly cloudy sunset sky, purple and blue, with pink and orange clouds streaking through the whole expanse of the frame, some of them thin, others wide and wispy.

We report: the sunset is on the wind, the colours are moving down its flow. There is sun in our eyes, somehow, even though we are almost certain that it ought to be behind the horizon by now. We watch a paper bag tumble down the street with an odd sense of awe.

Digital painting of a dark blue, starry sky, with a green glow above the horizon. There’s a couple of houses with glowing windows there, and a line of trees as well.

We report on a day that we stumbled through, tired, our mind stuck somewhere else. Only now, with the stars above our head, do we feel a little awake. Distant houses watch us with their orange eyes, but we do not feel observed, and we find our solace in this darkness.

Digital painting of a blue sky, half covered in rain clouds. There is a rainbow in the middle, with a bright section showing against the clouds, looking washed out against the blue of the sky.

We report: after the fact, we think we drove through the rainbow, or by it, or under it. We cannot recall how it went exactly, although there were a lot of light and colours, and the rain glittered. And then, the rainbow faded so soon anyway, the whole moment felt like a dream.

Digital painting of a bright blue sky, filled with crisscrossed, white, wispy cirrus. Some of the lines are thin and delicate, other are bold and transparent.

We report in a moment of infinite sky, when the bird that is flying the highest looks like it might be in outer space, a minuscule white dot floating among the highest cirrus of the atmosphere. It makes us take a big breath, knowing that we could not possibly run out of air.

Digital painting of some large, gold, fuzzy clouds in a deep blue sky, brown tones in the shadows.

We report: some clouds have taken it upon themselves to kickstart the sunset before the rest of the sky. First, the threads of gold that snag onto our eyelashes, and then the rush of humidity that takes hold of the air. We feel sparks and shivers in the crook of our neck.

Digital painting of a dawn landscape, a lilac sky over a dark field of grass, with trees in the distance. There is a small bird flying above the field.

We report in the tall grass that remains when ferns have dried up and wilted. There is a skylark practicing its lilting flight across the meadows, the only moving part of this hushed morning. We follow the desire paths of foxes and boars along the trees, trying to dodge cobwebs.

Digital painting of a storm cloud in a blue sky, wisps of white fanning out into the sky, and a churning, dark mass underneath.

We report: we stepped out of the train station, and the whole sky fell on our head, all at once, and it was hail, too. We considered walking in that weather for a second, but the sky continued on falling, so we decided against it. We stood there, dripping on the tiled floor.

Digital painting of a blue sky full of soft, curvy, fluffy clouds, all connected to one another.

We report in the deep afternoon, which is not very deep these days - one step to the side, and the sunset already grabs us by our feet. In the meantime, there is something really good in the clouds today, in their willingness to bloom into the light. We remember why we look up.

Digital painting of a sunset sky, an expanse of orange and purple clouds through which yellow light filters in, highlighting the shapes of the long, crenelated clouds. A flight of birds moves in a line in the distance.

We report: a lot of the time, when we think about November during all the other months of the year, it is something like this; that or the rain, but there has not been as much of that so far. In this way, as all our memories match up, we live in all of our Novembers at once.

Digital painting of a dark blue night sky, filled with stars, as well as low, long, wispy clouds with a bit of a glow to them.

We report in the complete absence of the sun: it is as dark as we remember it from previous nights, when the sun also was not there. We are counting all the other suns that we are now able to observe. Our expert insists that we do not need to count stars every time we see them.

Digital painting of a dark blue-grey sky: long, heavy clouds blending into one another, thin gaps of a very pale blue showing through.

We report: even with the weight of the sky, the clouds are rushing by. There is no time even for rain now, only the obfuscation of daylight, and the impression of a torrent streaming across the sky. The same few spots of blue curiously remain open through it all.

Digital painting of a partly cloudy sky. It is a cornflower blue, very light on the horizon. There is a row of burgeoning clouds there, and then a few fluffier clouds here and there, higher in the sky. There is yellow light coming from a low point, tinting the clouds.

We report in the mid-afternoon light, which it seems is in fact the evening light. The sun is trailing along behind low clouds, casting a golden something in the air. Our expert‘s coat is too thick for the mild temperature, but they insist on wearing it, visibly red in the face.

Digital painting of a sunrise sky, pastel and vibrant hues mixing in fuzzy streaks of the clouds. There is pink, purple, bright yellow and orange, with a thin row of dark orange clouds. Beneath the sky, the dark horizon bears trees, a phone line running across poles, and a small house.

We report: there is a weight to this morning, like the day was fully formed as soon as there was light in the sky. The sunrise does not hold for our waking up, so we have to be here with our eyes very open, and our mind very alert. We left the smell of coffee and toast behind.

Digital painting of a night sky, with an apparently full moon highlighting a crisscross web of contrails surrounding it with its diffuse glow. Off to the right-hand side of the frame, there is a moon dog, a bright spot of iridescence. The sky is a dark blue, with city light glow tinting it slightly orange in the lower tier.

We report: since the sky is oddly bright, we look for the moon, finding it pretending to be full (as you do). It sits in knots of cirrus, like a particularly talented spider on its web. Our expert gasps at the discovery of a moon dog, brilliant remanence of second-hand sunshine.

Digital painting of a cloudy sky over low mountains. There is a silver lake in the distance surrounded by brown, red, and dark green trees. The grass in the foreground is a burnt ochre. The clouds are long and wide, taking over the whole sky, and dimming the grey light.

We report as the wind picks up in the mountains: here where the trees are rare and frail thing, the thinnest breeze sweeps us over such that it is difficult to walk against the tide. Rain breaks through the clouds in short bursts. We do our best not to get our hair in our mouth.

Digital painting of a blue sky with a few thin layers of mottled, white clouds floating there.

We report: November emerges in the sunshine, almost too bright to believe. Through the curtains, the light had that golden glow of a low autumn sun. We begin to see some brown among the trees that have not been shaken out by the wind. The cackle of a jay follows us on our walk.

Digital painting of a sunset sky, blue with a swathe of orange running along the bottom of the frame. There are small, grey and pink clouds peppered in groups all over the sky. A dissipating contrail splits the frame, and a small, yellow half-moon glowing tucked between some of these clouds.

We report in the wake of the hundredth shower of this day. We almost slipped on wet, dead leaves earlier, and we are now very busy watching our feet, lingering adrenaline tickling our fingers. Even then, we stop to look up every few steps, hungry for the dying light.

Digital painting a dark night scene, bare autumn trees detaching against a dark blue, opaque sky. Out of frame, dim yellow light catches the foreground in contrast with the rest of the scene.

We report: the night came faster for the thick cover of the clouds, and even faster for the looming trees above us. In search of the way back, we looked for familiar landmarks, but only found glowing eyes in the deepening shadows. The wind washed out all the sounds of the night.

Digital painting of a grey, cloudy sky, filled with a large murmuration composed of two parts joining in the middle. The clouds in the background are slightly wavy, bluish at the bottom of the frame.

We report: amidst the fluttering of thousands of wings, we spot some kind of vulture circling the murmuration. Every time it attempts a strike, the cloud of birds dissipates, and immediately, smoothly finds its shape again. Eventually, after a long time, it seems to get tired.

We report: a well of light dances on the water far away. The wind unhurriedly moves the clouds, and the patterns of the shade are predictable. Our expert stirs us towards the sunshine, and we immediately feel the heat high on our cheeks. The seabirds flee on our approach.

We report: a well of light dances on the water far away. The wind unhurriedly moves the clouds, and the patterns of the shade are predictable. Our expert stirs us towards the sunshine, and we immediately feel the heat high on our cheeks. The seabirds flee on our approach.

Digital painting of a dark sunset sky, long, heavy, black and dark grey clouds letting red and orange light bleed through the gaps.

We report of a sunset that has been over-steeped, whatever sweet taste of it already drowned in the night. We take it, the way we try to take everything we can of the sky. Our expert talks about atmospheric refraction, and the fact that the sun has long set already.

Digital painting of a twilight sky, medium blue, with deep blue clouds coiled around a small waxing moon crescent.

We report: the moon is in the sky again, only just dipping into the chilly night before it sets in a few hours. The clouds are spreading out along invisible patterns, like a flock of birds scouring the horizon. The air is redolent with damp wood, and the deep scent of the mire.