A region where grey twilight ever descends, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars.
As Jean-Martin Charcot perceived over a century ago (1889: 382), “hystero-traumatic” symptoms may be related to an invisible yet actual brain process, “a dynamic lesion affecting the motor and sensory zones of the grey cortex of the brain.”
(Josephine Taylor, ‘Mark my words’, Southerly, 76.2)
Lovely maidens sit in close proximity to the roots of the lovely trees singing the most lovely songs while they play with all kinds of lovely objects as for example golden ingots, silvery fishes, crans of herrings, drafts of eels, codlings, creels of fingerlings, purple seagems and playful insects.
When the money has been pegged to the blue sky and the clouds and time to the earth, I will then take all of the grey cubicle dividers from the world’s financial planning offices and the money-moving offices of every middleman and middlewoman, and I will carve them into geometric shapes and make a labyrinth in the red centre of the outback.
(Sue Stevenson, ‘The cloud of undoing’, Southerly, 76.1)
A leisurely job scraping the summer-dried fish guts from his paint-weathered boat, his head down to the work, wondering about painting the boat some fancy colours—capillary red, or a kingfisher’s azure blue, or sunflower yellow. Oh! The good old days. What a memory. A reminder of the showing-off days when men were men, and the fish were plentiful, and boats never dreamt about the colour of camouflaged grey.
(Alexis Wright, Carpentaria 2)
In the sunset light the earth was burning red, and all the heat of the day rose concentrated from the pale stones. The land was strangely limited in colour. It had nothing to set against the bright earth but the grey-brown of myall, the grey of dead wood, and the tender peacock-green of the empty sky.
(Randolph Stow, The Merry-Go-Round in the Sea, 12)