There’s a big tree right in front of my window. It takes my sunlight and gives me some green.
There are these days so beautiful that you don’t know how to spend them. Spider webs sparkle across the air, connecting spaces, still and mysterious.
I don’t know how much I understood from my phonetics lecture this morning. My head was still sleepy from last night’s music and wine, while anticipating a movie at the Picture House in the city center and a homemade dinner with friends in the evening. Sound waves of various frequencies cluttered the spectrogram. I wondered how the sky could have such crystal blue.
A bike tour around the city allowed me to admire the sun — the best painter there is, turning everything into perfect colors. Trees casted shadows on the lawn, messy and beautiful like his hair last night.
I appreciate having water near me. The river and the traffic intersect, making a cross under the sky. The faster we go, the slower it flows. Fallen leaves fall behind the punter’s boat, perfectly content with their own speed.
I don’t know what I did to deserve such beauty. I do find it marvelous, what we humans have discovered about language structures, and being accompanied by many nice, intelligent young scholars. But on a Friday afternoon like this I just want to indulge my senses, lying on the grass and letting my body melt in the sun before the winter comes.
They say it’s our last few nice days. The temperature will soon fall below zero. My new bike has been accumulating broken dry leaves on its wheels. I hope it will survive more rainy and icy days.
The simplest is the most sophisticated — the leaves hanging outside my window are telling me. Not two of them are the same, neither in color nor in shape. But not knowing their distinctiveness, they remain where they are, making little movement in the wind, and form this thing so stunning called the tree.
The waves on my spectrogram may be another form of the growth ring. One marks the energy in the utterance of a sound, the other marks aging. Both creations of life. Both beyond what my mind at the moment is able to comprehend.
So I go outside, try to forget what I need to write, hoping my self-indulgence will end itself before the overcast comes.