Sometimes the most sublime sunsets are grey
“Were you up high?” asks Kuan. “High enough to die,” says I.
“Were you up high?” asks Kuan. “High enough to die,” says I.
Who are you, to ask the sky for anything, to hold itself together, to luminesce iridescence, to show you glimpses of God?
“An old man calls over to where I’m sitting on a bench, from around 30 paces away, and asks if I feel like talking. It’s a reasonable enough request – I’m not doing anything but watching the water from up…
I hope he does not read my blog, or the surprise will be ruined.
“I’m not a romantic guy, I’m just mad about stuff.” Kuan explains his luck with a girl.
The polar vortex hits New York, January 2014.