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🌅 India Rising
That time of day when the sun has grown sleepy, and is slowly surrendering to the landscape in evolving shades of corals and pinks and sometimes purples that’s my sky. Either that or the kind of smudgy, blurry day that has no beginning and no end — just an in-between.
Where you can’t find your north because you’ve decided that staying inside the clouds for a little while feels better than finding your way out.
I have always found pleasure in grey areas.
I watch the sky change after the sun has stopped her shining, through the woods behind my home every evening. Wintered, naked trees in the foreground; wavy, watercolored sky behind.
If I were a painter, I would paint this every day.
But I am not, so I watch it. I watch it and I see it, like I’m listening to it.
Do you ever do that? Watch something that you want to hear and feel more clearly? I guess that’s just what observing is to most people, but sometimes I feel things so deeply that I can see how they move within me.
I can see Wilson Pickett sing “Hey Jude” even though I’m a Paul McCartney Fan.I see Donny Hathaway sing “Jealous Guy” even though I’m a John Lennon Fan.I see Joe Cocker sing “With a Little Help from My Friends” even though I’m a Beatles fan.
Some things are just better felt as mind renderings.
I watch this sky painting every evening like the sun is trying to tell me something in those brief minutes of glorious color, before she’s no longer able to keep herself up.Before the moon takes over and shadows everything with curiosity and craft.
This production I watch every evening is called Magic Hour.
And every evening while I watch her take her bow, I can feel the sun’s heaviness. I feel her being pulled,and I feel hee.
JaiHind.. 🇮🇳 JaiBharat..
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