It’s a vision which sometimes strikes me when walking too early in the morning. Though numb with sleep I am shocked at how clearly I can see, shocked at the pleasure my body takes in walking, when I would rather be sleeping. I tell my self I haven't woken yet, that I suffer from a chronic condition only treatable by coffee. But in fact I'm as clear as the morning. The day can be seen as what it is: a river of ten million rippling blue grays under a sky so rosy men walk with their heads down in embarrassment.
We see this only for a moment between home and safe dulling destination. We have arranged the journey so that our exposure to this wildness is too short to have a long lasting effect. We invent sleepy mornings, invent dullness to defend against it.
Fortunately houses which are made to keep out the cold, serve just as well to keep it in. We don't have to take seriously the threat of beauty. We don't have to wonder if we have made a mistake in our destination. We don't have to admit that we arrived as soon as we walked out the door.