251. Rapt

I’d like… To be able to drive out into an open field, far away from the city, where my sight is not obstructed by trees or buildings, on a starry night. There, I’ll kill the engine, spray on insect repellant, lay out a blanket on top of the car roof, and just lay there with my hands tucked behind my head, staring up into the inky black sky that is punctuated by a thousand twinkling, milky-white lights.

And I’ll just be rapt in awe.

In the same open field, I’d also like to pitch a canvas tent and lay out layers of mattresses on the ground, then laying inside with my head rested on a pillow, reading a book by the light of an electric lamp as heavy raindrops pelt against the sides of the tent. I’ll smell the rain through the little opening in front of the tent, and maybe feel the chill of the wind as it whistles in.

I’d like to sit in a meadow teeming with foot-tall, multicolored flowers. I’d sit on the ground hugging my knees, and just gaze out into the sea of varied hues, breathing in the faint, sweet smell carried on the gentle breeze. When I think about this, I never consider the bugs that might be around. Maybe I’ll be wearing bug repellant.

I’d like to walk through the forest into a clearing where a river gently trickles downstream, and sit myself upon a smooth, large riverside rock. I’d listen to the bubbling and splashing of water, like a symphony of liquid crystals, and breathe in the cold, humid air.

But I also love the cityscape as much as I like nature. I’d like to go up to the rooftop of the tallest skyscraper and feel the buffeting of the wind, and watch the sun set over the concrete jungle. I’d like to see the cold, grey walls come alive in golden and orange light, and as the lights go down to a deep navy and purple color, watch yellow and white lights illuminate the buildings one room at a time. All of this will happen as I sit at a little table, working my way through a dinner of steak (prepared medium-rare) and potatoes.

I sometimes dream of sitting in a cozy, if cramped room in a flat, on a bed pushed up against a small window. The room would be seven storeys up, just high enough to get a bird’s eye view on the busy streets below, and just low enough so that the sounds of the crowd are not a distant mumble but a nearby cacophony that challenges the boundaries between music and noise.

I’d like to experience moments like these: not thinking of anything else, not trying to capture the image or the feeling, but just to bask in it, and, for that brief time, to be lost in the experience. To be enchanted by the moment. To be caught up in a single frame of sensory perfection.

To experience rapture.

I think I’d like that.

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