Today my train commute home included pink dusted clouds and a mighty yet obscuring mountain. As my train rushed along in it's usual "clickety-clack" way (in Japan it's actually a "shoo, shoo, bum, bum" anomonopia) towards my usual transfer station, my eyes took in the not so common. Yes, I had seen clouds, and yes I had seen pink, but some color and texture combinations I think God saves to make eyes open wider. This sky scene was the kind that made you sit up and notice, and made your hands itch for a paintbrush whether they had picked one up before or not. Sagoi! Amazing!
I began wondering about those clouds and the source of color, the scientific source not the Sunday school answer though that is true as well. This brings me to my beautiful, obscuring mountain. Ikoma mountain rises proud and impenetrable (there are places no foot has stepped) as a division between us and the rest of Osaka which lies beside the ocean. In that moment my heart skipped an important beat at the thought of a sun setting on a wide ocean and casting it's last, soft blush on those viewable clouds.
Why heart did you skip a beat? From what I've heard, that reaction is reserved for the man of my dreams and extremely dreadful situations. Not that those two are related. Why did a beauty caused by something unseen cause this reaction and why does my soul cry out along with your stumble? It seems unreasonable. Unreasonable indeed.
Beautiful thought.
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