“You’ve Caught The Sun”

 I like that phrase: “You’ve caught the sun.” I’ve just spent the weekend in Rome, and I truly feel I’ve caught a small part of the sun and brought it back with me, like a moth sheltered in the space between two cupped palms; its silvery dust on my fingers. 
Light is embedded in my tanned skin and my bleached hair. I can feel it in my body. It’s in my smile and my eyes as I think about the beautiful things I’ve seen. The heat seeps from the ground and the buildings; the streets are alight with colour and sound. It’s in my clothes, soon to be washed: all trace of sunlight will vanish. 

But it will continue to creep between every gap between bricks; in the water of the fountains. It’s in the pages of the book I read; in the soles of my shoes. I’ve caught the sun, and it has caught me. It cradles me in its arms and sends me to sleep. I will dream of gold and ancient stone. 

(Picture: Light through the great domed ceiling of the Pantheon)


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