What Is Real

These were in the sky Friday evening:





Some friends and I surfaced from the 2nd Avenue stop from the F train. In the Lower East Side, the skyline is lower than just about anywhere else in town, and I looked up, and I just kept looking up. I could scarcely believe my eyes. Of course, with the camera I couldn’t capture the clouds the way my eyeballs did at the time. This is pretty close, though. The colors and the textures and shapes, the brushstrokes; the orangey-pink light suspending rows and rows of cottonballs just beyond my reach, this is all real. My friends saw the sky, too, though I can’t account for their experience. Even if I didn’t have the camera, and I couldn’t convince you, I know what I saw, if only for my personal witness – the instantaneous speechlessness, wonderment and veneration in my soul as I raised my eyes to the sky – burned into my memory.

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