The other day, as I was finishing up my run, I had the fortuitous moment of having Tiesto's "Adagio for Strings" reach the point of heartbreaking strings just as I was cresting my last hill.
Below, where the bay usually glistens grey and blue, lay a shining silver lake of clouds. A giant tsunami wave of molten white cumuli rose from this lake as if it were going to crash against my hill, sweeping me away in its glory.
It was the perfect moment of music, light, and release from the physical exertion of running up hill. It stole my breath.
It was hope embodied.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment