Sunsets
When I was a little girl, I didn't understand why my mother was forever pointing out the sky.
"Isn't it beautiful, Amanda?"
I mean, it was the sky. What's so magical, right?
But it must've soaked in, because one day I found myself standing alone, staring up in wonder at the colors painted by an insane artist. Neon pink with purple, orange, light blue, white, dark blue, silver... vivid, crazy colors, not found in nature. Except here was nature, sticking her tongue out and waving her dripping magenta paintbrush all over the place.
Now I always look up. White clouds at night, delicate pink sunrises, the light blue to deep blue to midnight black of the fading light in the evening... And always with the crazy sunsets!
"Isn't it beautiful, Amanda?"
I mean, it was the sky. What's so magical, right?
But it must've soaked in, because one day I found myself standing alone, staring up in wonder at the colors painted by an insane artist. Neon pink with purple, orange, light blue, white, dark blue, silver... vivid, crazy colors, not found in nature. Except here was nature, sticking her tongue out and waving her dripping magenta paintbrush all over the place.
Now I always look up. White clouds at night, delicate pink sunrises, the light blue to deep blue to midnight black of the fading light in the evening... And always with the crazy sunsets!