Depression on a cloudy day is much better than on a sunny day. On a gloomy day the world is a feather bed, with no sharp edges, and the air--soft, cool, and sweet. Everything seems to be cushioned and blunted and you can sink into it, close your eyes, and close your mind. It is a little like a large padded cell. You can’t hurt yourself on a gloomy day because all the sharp edges are gone. And if it rains, it can wash away all the debris that has accumulated.
On sunny days everything has razor edges that can lacerate a wounded spirit. You look out and the reflection on the blade of the day blinds you and hurts your eyes. Green has become a weapon and concrete a furnace. Everything you brush against seems to have points and angles that wound. All you want to do is crawl back into that feather bed until darkness blunts the sharp places of the day.
I love gloomy days.
Today is a gloomy day.
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