Of this world I will miss light the most. Little stars of light in rain drops on yellow leaves with a background of freshly washed blue.

I will miss the sky and clouds in inumerable plenty of variations, from a cinnamon sunset to a shiny autumn morning that restores hope after a month of greyness. Thin white borders and pink-grey bellies of clouds.

Flickery music of caustic at the bottom of a shallow that makes fish dance. A warm touch of light on the cheek, somewhere on a rocky shore, surrounded by a monologue of the sea. I know it recites a poem, but I cannot understand the words.