So imagine you are strolling around on the very top of the world, as you do. You are the ultimate cameraman, shooting this documentary for which you're looking for a subject. The crosshair automatically detects me and your all-powerful GPS makes you go whoosh! from the top, gliding through gods, galaxies, a few paradises until you see the star I call the Sun. You race through the atmosphere and see green and blue and faint blots of gray and then there you are, watching me exhale a tiny cloud of smoke as I mutter to myself.
I live in a town that I despise deeply, from the bottom of my heart. I've moved around a lot and this seems to be the station for today. It's the kind of place where you enter and automatically ask yourself: 'Good god, what is this place?' In this city there is this block of flats, on whose top floor I dwell. That flat has a balcony and on that balcony I stand at night, gazing into the ether seeing buildings, trees and lights, all blurred for I've lost my glasses. Faint wind blows, and by sweeping through those trees it moves them slightly. It bends them and they reach into the spheres, enough for me to see the blurry balls of light dance around in the darkness.
I think Nature is, in a sense, rather fond of sharing. As that son of Zephyr sang the lusters into a ballet, he showed me the Beauty that he probably sees multiplied on a daily basis, simply by flying through a chunk of this mudglobe. He experiences it, but shares it, too, so it wouldn't go away.
Let me provide an analogy so you wouldn't take me for a rambling lunatic. Remember the night, when you were all alone and looked up at the sky and spotted the great gray eye of Luna. When you stroked your arm, mimicking an embrace that was long gone, maybe didn't even happen at all. When you yearn for that touch, that kiss, those moans and the smiles-
Then, in your heart of hearts, you merely sigh the words: 'What a beautiful night!' And then you feel how Beauty touches your quivering heart, and then, it's gone. Forever.
We need to share the Beauty, for only in the memory of something or someone else will it live long enough to be remembered. The son of Zephyr, he showed me the Beauty he felt and I felt it too. I remember.
And from now on, so will you.
I live in a town that I despise deeply, from the bottom of my heart. I've moved around a lot and this seems to be the station for today. It's the kind of place where you enter and automatically ask yourself: 'Good god, what is this place?' In this city there is this block of flats, on whose top floor I dwell. That flat has a balcony and on that balcony I stand at night, gazing into the ether seeing buildings, trees and lights, all blurred for I've lost my glasses. Faint wind blows, and by sweeping through those trees it moves them slightly. It bends them and they reach into the spheres, enough for me to see the blurry balls of light dance around in the darkness.
I think Nature is, in a sense, rather fond of sharing. As that son of Zephyr sang the lusters into a ballet, he showed me the Beauty that he probably sees multiplied on a daily basis, simply by flying through a chunk of this mudglobe. He experiences it, but shares it, too, so it wouldn't go away.
Let me provide an analogy so you wouldn't take me for a rambling lunatic. Remember the night, when you were all alone and looked up at the sky and spotted the great gray eye of Luna. When you stroked your arm, mimicking an embrace that was long gone, maybe didn't even happen at all. When you yearn for that touch, that kiss, those moans and the smiles-
Then, in your heart of hearts, you merely sigh the words: 'What a beautiful night!' And then you feel how Beauty touches your quivering heart, and then, it's gone. Forever.
We need to share the Beauty, for only in the memory of something or someone else will it live long enough to be remembered. The son of Zephyr, he showed me the Beauty he felt and I felt it too. I remember.
And from now on, so will you.
