Above the rooftops...

Such a beautiful sunset last night - shimmering pinks, purples, blues, the golden fire of the setting in the distance.

All I had to do was look above the chimneys and rooftops to see another world, a different perspective.

It felt good for a few minutes, lifting my eyes from the ground and my shuffling feet, remembering the days when my head was constantly in the clouds and flying.

I used to watch the sun setting above the market square as I walked home from school and imagine that I was in a Flemish painting.

It’s all very well being ‘grounded’ but it appears to me that being on the ground constantly, never looking up to see what could be, is dull. Mind you, and on the other hand, dull is generally safe, no fear of falling and no fear of going too close to the sun and burning.

It seems such a very long time since I flew. I wonder if I were to keep looking up for long enough I’d fly again. I wonder if I could get to the billows, and would they be pink when I got to them? And what if I reached out and touched them, would my hand be made pink too as the damp vapours intertwined it?

And would I go on and set my course for the heart of the burning Breugel sun, or fall to be dashed upon the cobbled market square?

Who Knows? I guess I’ll just keep shuffling.