I saw the sunrise the other morning. It was lilac and silent. Some shy, greyish, clouds passed about lazily and a bed of milky fog covered the valley. Suddenly, without warning, a sunbeam coming from behind the mountains hit me directly in the eyes. I flinched. The strength of the light was blinding. I wanted to keep my eyes open but couldn’t. I looked away, to the firmament. The stars were no longer there. The purple haze turned bluish, the grey turned orange. The light flooded the sky. It felt warm on my face. I opened the window and the freshest wind came in, uninvited. The first rays of sun, and the first air currents of the morning came and went in a second. I lingered in their memory. Nostalgia. Why didn’t they last longer? Why didn’t they give me the chance to soak in their beauty? I barely felt the day’s coming to existence with my fingertips. The morning mist faded away and I was only left with its memory. The sweetness. How delicious the moment, that second of birth, of painful beauty, of unstoppable change. I guess if it lasted longer it wouldn’t be appreciated. Maybe, only what’s caducous is precious. Only what’s finite can be beautiful. How fortunate that cosmic coincidence that made life possible on this “speck of dust floating on a sunbeam”. How lucky the eyes that are able to the admire beauty’s ephemerality and fragility. How out of our power everything is. No matter how careful we are with the crystal ball that we hold in our hands with such grip and fear, it will inevitably fall and break into a million unmendable pieces. But fret not. Not all is lost. We saw the day being born. We heard its first cry and were caressed by its gentleness. How immeasurably fortunate are we?

The sky quickly turned light blue, the city woke up. The sunrise lasted but a second. What a bittersweet second that was.