I had a really long meeting today and was so exhausted when I left work but as soon as I stepped out of our building, I saw the gorgeous sky in the distance, and reminded myself that the ocean is just 20-some blocks away, I could still drive there and catch the last light. And I did.
I only stayed for a little while but it was enough to give me a space to breathe. Just a few minutes, in a place that you love, is all. Took a photograph for you, because it was too lovely, and I wish you could have seen it.
And here is another inspiration for the day: Nabokov's words, a gorgeous facsimile from a poem in Pale Fire. I haven't read this novel yet but I've always found comfort in his prose, and this one is no exception. I love the part about his eyes taking photographs because that is what I aspire to do as a writer -- take mental pictures of a moment, and later, try to recreate it with words, as truthfully as possible.
All colors made me happy: even gray.
My eyes were such that literally they
Took photographs. Whenever I'd permit,
Or, with a silent shiver, order it,
Whatever in my field of vision dwelt--
An indoor scene, hickory leaves, the svelte
Stilettos of a frozen stillicide--
Was printed on my eyelids' nether side
Where it would tarry for an hour or two,
And while this lasted all I had to do
Was close my eyes...
-- Vladimir Nabokov, from "Pale Fire: A Poem in Four Cantos by John Shade"