I feel so much more aware right now. Were these things always there?
It’s the slow shift of the seasons. The nights when my feet get cold walking on the beaten hardwood floors. The beauty of the sky at the going down of the sun – not always brilliant reds, but just a clear, captivating blue that deepens and darkens until the streetlights come on and there’s nothing left. The crisp morning air. The gradual strengthening of the sun as the day wears on. And I look up at the sky as it is marked by the passing of time, and I call out, “It’s marking me too!”
Everything is suspended in time and air. That must be how the world feels. Suspended. I get that now.
[Images Jill Sander Fall 1998 by David Sims]
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