Some Days

Some rare Korean summer days like today you stop and you look up and there’s nothing but blue, and you think about that thin envelope of air and how close to your upturned face the edge of space lies, that the sun is a continuous celestial self-sustaining nuclear explosion, how glorious the heat and light that fury of power produces feels as it presses down on you like the soft weight of love, and it is as if your body is being drawn skyward by some gentle tidal surge, and you remember how good it is to be alive.

That feeling is one I remember from my younger days, and I love to feel it again before I have to go back into the office, where I type these words.

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