No, not homebrew, though I should write about that someday as well. Literally moon shine. At least, I think that's what it was. At any rate, it was so bright the other night, the house cast a shadow. Light gleamed off the leaves of the banana trees, and well after the usual hour of darkness it was still bright enough to see clearly. The white-tiled tomb outside my window shone a pale bluish light and I hated to turn away from the beautiful night. Having experienced the utter darkness of a moonless African light sans electricity, I have now also seen a brightness to rival a Canadian winter's night by a snow-covered field.
“There’s no accounting for taste.” That’s my dad’s favourite way of explaining personal tastes that are incomprehensible to him, like living downtown, and riding bike in winter. The inexplicable factors which determine an individual’s likes or dislikes are probably the only way I can explain why my favourite nativity scene contains a horribly caricatured black magus, a random adoring child attired – to my fancy – like a Roma person, an old shepherd carrying some sort of blunderbuss. And a haloed holy family with an 18-month-old baby Jesus. This is the "Christmas Manger Set – the Christmas story in beautiful cut-out scenes and life-like figures." See how the 1940s-era family admires the realistic flourishes, like raw wood beams and straw protruding from the edge of the roofline; the rough, broken wood of the stalls; the tasselled camels; the richly dressed magi; the woolly sheep; the Bethlehemites on the path in the background, ostensibly out to get water, judging...
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