Ten seasons

The ten worlds

Each season stays in one part of the world long enough to learn its light. The people change every story. The land, and the one sound it keeps making, do not.

The Hush of Falling Snow

Tohoku, Japan

Small gold windows in a blue-hour cold, and snow coming down heavy and slow enough to watch a single flake all the way to the ground.

The light: Blue-hour cold outside against small warm gold windows. The light pools. It never beams.
What keeps sounding: A bronze temple bell, its hum fading into snow

The Courtyard of Cool Water

The medina, Fez

Warm dusk bouncing between close ochre walls, lamplight climbing the tile as the rose goes out of the sky.

The light: Warm dusk bouncing between close walls, lamplight climbing the tile as the rose fades from the sky.
What keeps sounding: The courtyard fountain, its small voice never stopping

The Turning Tide

The Hebrides

Sea and sky the same silver, and one red croft door holding all the warmth there is.

The light: Silver-grey overcast dusk, sea and sky one single tone, the red door the only warm thing in it.
What keeps sounding: The tide itself, going out and coming home

The Weaver's Valley

The high Andes

Thin clear air, violet shadows going long, and a sky so near you could rest your hand on it.

The light: Thin clear high-altitude dusk. Long violet shadows, visible breath, a sky enormous and near.
What keeps sounding: The backstrap loom, and the blanket growing row by row

The Rain on the River

The Mekong delta

Every light doubled in the water, and warm rain softening the edges of the whole world.

The light: Wet dusk. Every light doubled in the water, every edge softened by rain.
What keeps sounding: The lotus, closing every evening, opening every dawn

The Cooling Sand

The central Sahara

Violet over gold-shadowed dunes, and one bank of embers holding the only warmth for a hundred miles.

The light: Violet sky over gold-shadowed dunes, ember-glow the one warm point in a great deal of cool air.
What keeps sounding: The desert well, cool and patient beneath everything

The Sky That Breathes

Sápmi

A dusk that never quite ends, and green light moving overhead like something breathing in its sleep.

The light: A polar-night dusk that never ends. The aurora is the light source. The firebank is the warmth.
What keeps sounding: The reindeer bell, one clear far-off note

The Forest That Glows

Aotearoa

Enclosed dark under the canopy, lit blue-green from within, as though the ground kept its own quiet sky.

The light: Enclosed dusk under the canopy, faces lit blue-green from within the dark.
What keeps sounding: The glowworm cave, the forest's own small stars

The Shell and the Shallow Sea

The Caribbean

Coral afterglow on blood-warm water, and the night insects starting up as the lamp goes on.

The light: Coral-rose afterglow on blood-warm water, veranda lamplight as the night insects begin.
What keeps sounding: The conch shell on the veranda rail

The Song of the Grass Sea

The Mongolian steppe

Gold grass darkening to slate under the widest sky there is, and one glowing door in all of it.

The light: Immense flat dusk. Gold grass darkening to slate under the widest sky, and the ger door glowing.
What keeps sounding: The horsehead fiddle

The stories go up on YouTube.

Eight to fourteen minutes each, with longer compilations for the nights that need them.

Watch on YouTube Back to the beginning