Beautiful Days

It’s a beautiful day.

But what does that mean to us?

Is it because the sky is a brilliant blue and the sun greets us warmly with its bludgeoning radiation, a lethal stellar attack that is filtered by our convenient atmosphere into something not only manageable but stunning and admirable?

Or is it because of the events that surround it? What you did the previous night, what you have planned for the next few days, they all fall into the melting pot of influence and tug at your mood in the epic battle to decide whether you are to be happy or sad that particular day.

Grey skies often signal a day that is not particularly beautiful but to me at least this is incredibly false, we make this assumption that cloud cover makes a day bad based on primitive instincts and countless generations of snide small talk, when really it doesn’t make a whole lot of difference except for the obvious cosmetic influence, and for me sometimes, the most beautiful thing about this earth is the rain, there’s something oddly satisfying about getting drenched while walking nonchalantly back from the gym, work, wherever you may be, and I don’t really know why that is, maybe I need some professional help but I can’t see it holding me back at all.

So give me a couple of seconds so that my brain can wander into a nice place rather than a sink hole and I’ll probably tell you that it’s a good day, and although I may be one of the most pessimistic people this side of Europe I wouldn’t let the quality of my day be decided by one singular reason outside the personal… okay I lied, I can’t hold that back but it would be nice would it not? Just for one day, to be able to mute the assumptions we place upon the nature of the day/night period, and just enjoy ourselves, to just appreciate being alive.


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