Wednesday, October 6

one way

the windows face east.

it's almost seven o'clock.

the real sunset is behind me. behind me and the bookshelves, the walls, the corridors, the stairs and the next building and the valley beyond them to the west.

what I can see is the smudgy, windswept sky. bits of torn cotton fog have been lost from the storm that was here this afternoon. and there is fire reflected in the crags and slopes of those beautiful mountains.

and then it all starts to sink.

well, not really. the shadow gets deeper, like a flood creeping from the valley floor all the way up, and it chases that perfect golden glow into the night.

ten minutes later it's all a muddy purple. the brilliant blue smudges have been watered down. the sharp relief of all those crags and slopes is gone now and the mountains retreat into silhouette, turning their attention, perhaps, to the east, where they will welcome the sun tomorrow morning.

and that is what it's like to watch the sun set behind you. sort of.

now I'm wondering what it's like to watch the sunset from the air. or from space. or what if you're facing mountains to the north? do they reflect sunsets as beautifully as these?
{ photo by NASA }

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