My week, unlike my clock, has a linear kind of shape. It’s difficult to describe. Imagine a series of seven skyscrapers, building blocks, or some such collection. Now imagine you’re standing on the tallest one, looking down at the next six. Now imagine that you are looking at this from a point that could be described as about seven o’clock, or 210 degrees, or SSW, and you’re looking NNE. You’re standing on Sunday, and you’re looking at the week before you.
Okay, so that’s how you begin. But the days of the week have colours as well. Monday’s tinged with red, Tuesday’s the yellow-grey colour of a bruise, Wednesday’s a dirty yellow (not yellow-grey, but yellow-brown), Thursday’s grey, Friday’s some light shimmery colour that’s impossible to pin down, Saturday’s white, Sunday’s black and white and bright.
And now add in light and shade, without which my associations are always incomplete. The weekend’s bright. Monday starts off in the shadow of Sunday, and it’s a shorter block/building than Sunday (which is the highest). Tuesday’s shorter than Monday, and is in shadow. Wednesday’s not in shadow so much, so I guess it must be taller than Tuesday. Thursday’s the shortest of all, and dark. Friday’s coming into the light, and it’s almost as tall as Saturday, which is light. But because the sun (you) are shining from the direction of the Sunday before, Saturday and Sunday catch all of it, and are almost blinding in their light.
Could I draw this? Not on your life. I’d have no idea how to show ALL the days. The weekend would block out the week.
But there it is.