It's dark too early. I got back from college to find the house in dissaray, men in blue over-alls walking around installing the new boiler using complicated hybrid screwdrivers. The power was switched off three times, and each time, I lost either the start of a blog entry, or a continuation of my NaNo story. Third time unlucky.

David Gray and Everything But the Girl is the soundtrack of the day, and they make me think of snow and gloves and THAT feeling I can't grasp. I don't know what it is. It's elusive, it's hidden, but I want it. I need it. Things won't make sense with it, but I need it anyhow, to make myself somehow different.

It's remembering the sound and taste of the first bite of a sweet, crunchy apple. It's the aftertaste of a book which takes you away for a week, to a place far, far away. It's the feeling music gives you at a certain time, in a certain place. It's the feel of the brush against my head when I was younger, the memory of being wrapped into a towel and the taste of Brie after school in Year One. It's the plastic eyes of dolls, and the smell of something old, familiar, but not quite name-able.

Don't worry, I don't know what I'm talking about either.