Last Sunday morning. What can I say? Sometimes the light…
Painting its own time zone… dawn summons us to a world alive and death-defying, when the deepest arcades of life and matter beckon. Then, as if a lamp were switched on in a dark room, nature grows crisply visible, including our own nature, ghostly hands, and fine sediment of days.
Diane Ackerman, Dawn Light: Dancing with Cranes and Other Ways to Start the Day.
(New York: W. W. Norton, 2009), xiv.
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