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2006-05-22

[I found this entry I was meaning to post last week when I was in Malmö—before I got to the studio.]


I don't normally want to stand still. But tonight I couldn't help myself. Frida's apartment faces west. She has a magnificent view of an apartment building that's identical to hers. But when drenched in sunset even the most mundane becomes magical.

I stood silently with my face pressed to the window and just watched—the building saturated in yellow afternoon glow, clouds scrolling from left to right, a flurry of dark birds swirling from somewhere then disappearing again.

The heat of my cheek was sucked away by the spot touching the cold window pane. The cold was comforting. It reminded me of the safety of sleep. I like to bundle my body in blankets when I sleep, but I want my face to be as cold as possible. I felt that as I stood and watched.

Sunsets themselves are about as subtle as a bomb drop—it's hard not to notice when they happen. Which I think is why I tend to tune them out. I'm tired of the fanfare. I've become bored by—or perhaps numb to—the explosions.

The effects of the sunset, however, fascinate me. The hyper-saturated wash of light, the winds from the west, the stillness of a city held hypnotized in the magical time between day and night. Even the busiest town seems to move a little slower during these minutes—distracting their attention from the daily grind so they can see who wins the race to the horizon.

It's not the sun's daily exit that I love, but these other things. Of course a sunset is lovely. It's a burning phoenix crashing into the end of the world. [It's pretty hard to screw that one up—especially during the long Swedish summer when the sun moves in slow motion and the sunsets last for what feels like hours.]

Tonight I stopped to enjoy it for the first time in so long. I let myself be hypnotized.

With my back to it I watched the sky and the birds, the apartment building and the people inside it—hypnotized faces and places of a beautiful world showered in the butter-yellow light of the end of the world.


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