Day Three Hundred and Forty-nine


Trei Hansves Dedh Dogens ha Naw

De Sül, whehdegves mis Kevardhû.
Sunday, 16th December

Jorna loos o, maga loos avel lüjiw, comolek, gleb ha heb howl. Otta an mor en pelder; brîth/labol gen loos o, loos tewl reb an ebòrn ha loos gwàdn reb an mordardh gwydn. Nei alja lavaral, “Glas ew an mor.” Glas ew an gwel dien. Dison o – gellys o an gwens ha nag era nagonan veth a-les, marnas agan honan.
It was a grey day, as grey as ashes, cloudy, damp and sunless. See the sea in the distance; it was striped with grey, dark grey by the sky and pale grey by the white surf. We could say, “The sea is grey.” The entire scene is grey. It was quiet – the wind was gone and there was nobody at all out and about, apart from ourselves.

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