sunset mindset

in my last year in waterloo, i lived in an apartment on the sixteenth floor. though the summers baked and the winters hurt, i always got a stunning view of the sunset. i painted nearly thirty sunsets live, until they faded into nothing, and it never got old.

there’s an obvious poetry in the sunset. she returns with a different dress on each night, flirts with the clouds for a dazzling half hour, then slips away as quickly as she came. by the time I’m drunk on her presence, she’s already gone — how could I love another muse? she could stand me up seven nights in a row, and I’d be back on the eighth.