I have wallowed beneath grey clouds for the longest while. I have developed a thirst for a certain type of light.
It is the cold silvery light of stars that I crave. Illuminated crystals.
I have developed a single minded hunger for that cold, white light.
I sit by my window at night. And I look out for the stars.
The clouds, coloured orange by Hastings sodium street lights, gaze back at me with bovine incomprehension.