“It’s kind of a really nice day. He decides to walk around the block. On the side of the road he see’s a woman’s tennis shoe filled with leaves and it fills him with inexplicable sadness. He walks down his side street and sees striking colors in the faces of people around him, details in these beautiful brick walls and weeds that he must have passed every day but never noticed. The air smells different, brighter somehow, and the currents under the bridge look strange and vivid, and the sun is warming his face, and the world is clumsy and beautiful and new. And it’s as though he’s been sleepwalking for God knows how long and something has violently shaken him awake. His bathmats are gorgeous. The grain patterns in his cheap wood cabinets vibrate something deep within him. He’s fascinated by the way his paper towels drink water. He’s never really appreciated these things. All this detail he’s never noticed. Detail. He’s alive. The stars rattled him to the core. All these lights have traveled for tens of millions of years to reach him at this moment. How somehow far away our own sun looks just like this. How many of the stars no longer even exist, but whose ancient light is just reaching him now. An impression from a ghost. An amazing infinite time machine every night above his head that he’s ignored for most of his life. He wants to stop people in the street and say ‘Isn’t this amazing? Isn’t everything amazing?’”
andulkaphoto
gracieabrams
germansingergirl
gummygunk
pixelskylines
prguitarman
