I know it’s perhaps too soon to write this, but with the chill gone, something of the magic of the park seems to have disappeared as well. I ran up and down the stairs on Lookout Hill this morning, but the sunrise never came, and I never really became winded to the point where I felt delirious and exhausted. And then, because I had no reason to linger, my timing was off, and so when I rounded the corner at the top of the park, the sun was already out and all the wispy red clouds had burned off leaving the sky a disconcerting gray. Also, now that I suppose I’m better at running, my mind lacks the pure emptiness that used to come from a combination of cold weather and exertion and the will to succeed. My thoughts are not as scattered.
Despite all this, it must be said that two days ago I caught my breath to see the mist so diffuse along the green ground beneath the still-lit lamps. Over the course of just a few minutes, that mist rises and it disappears and then, all of a sudden, the look of everything is different and clear and bright. It is a landscape that is filled with the absence of something that is ephemeral.