I think you blink. The way Monet thought about it or the man from the mountains. Much more so than just those brief cleansing moments our eyelids rhythmically engage. No, these are more substantive. They bring the dark closer. The inner elements of our nature that allow our dreams to see a new light born. The colors closeted so much so they becomes a dance of swirls and imagined ecstasy. Within that long blink of a time your eyes see themselves. The clock ever so slightly resting. So much so that the surface of Monet’s pond contains a new reflection. The mountains breathe air from far away. The sky become a mist of sounds. The birds are carriers of this joy. I think the rain has a part to play. All this and something else I suppose. Copyright S. Kamber