Word: dusk
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...tourists come off the plane and shoot around Los Angeles like camphor boats in a bathtub, trying to locate the downtown so that they can taste the drama of the big city, just the way they would back in Cleveland or Chicago or New York. At dusk they position themselves in the shadow of the city's tallest, busiest building and are simultaneously bee-swarmed by the swish of traffic, smell of bagels, whistles of cops and honking of cabs while they wait to feel the electricity of the place coming right through their shoe soles from the neon...
Marcia Heuber's world is one of seasons and crops, dawn-to-dusk farm chores, the kitchen and children in a rambling farmhouse near Malta, Ill. She gets up at 4:30 a.m. most of the year, and by 10 a.m. she has prepared breakfast for her husband and four children, fed and watered the chickens, and washed the first of three loads of laundry. Then she puts in a full day in the fields, helping to sort pigs and cattle, unloading hay bales and gathering the six dozen eggs she sells daily. She drives a tractor, spreads manure...
...beauty remains. In the dawn, the air is pale and still; only the eucalyptus trees stir, their leaves flickering silver high up in the new light. With the sun warm at your back, you can look to the east and see snow glinting white on the distant mountains. At dusk, the hills lie gentled, their smoke-blue folds growing slowly deeper with the lapse of light. And the sea always has its magic, especially at night, when the beaches are deserted and the sand runs cool beneath your feet. The waves roll in, sighing at last up the shore...
...relief, then, to enter one of the sound stages, to slide open a heavy iron door and step into cool darkness. The gloom is thick, palpable, and you are aware of vast spaces above you. Gradually, as you become accustomed to the artificial dusk, it takes form. Cables as thick as your arm snake over the floor and up the walls, black and viny. High up, just below a barely discernible ceiling, banks of unused lights cluster like hard dark fruits. And you are aware that this shadowy jungle is alive; figures appear and disappear, slipping swiftly through the darkness...
NIGHT is the best time to say goodbye. Faces are gentled by dusk; shadows of bitterness or of that can only be cast by the hard light of day merge and fade away in the wash of darkness. To bid goodbye in a dream: surely this gentle going is better than the harsh, hard-edged parting in broad day, better than a Scarlet-Stained. Passion-Heavy sunset farewell. Deep blue night; the hush; a cool, whispering touch--and footsteps echoing away, ever more distant in the dark. Delicate, right, no danger of disintegration, of seeing what we've loved shattered...