The sunset.

Walking down Madison, heading south towards the city. An average walk, even pace. Just walking, checking the nooks and crannies of the sidewalk for rocks tempting to bit a toe and send their owners flailing down the hill. A focused brisk stride, heading down to see Tennessee Williams; at least a slice of his genius in a small fringe black box. Left right, left, skip the stone, right. Sidestep aound a statue....

Not a statue, yet still. A man on the sidewalk, still completely still. Suit over skin, shoes firmly planted, an briefcase heeling obediently. Odd, I thought. In a city of forward moving people, one would stop. In a place where you could smell ambition, one remains motionless, for the scent of roses. Fleeting moment, pressing on.

Left right left right, don't step on the crack, my mother is a saint ,wouldn't want to inflict any harm, I should call her...

Reaching the crosswalk. A red hand stopped my pace. Looking at the ground, avoiding eye contact, conversation, etc. White man flickers allowing the crowd. No one moves. I didn't understand, white man means go right? Looking over at a woman, I noticed her skin was glowing. The otherwise overcast complexion was golden. I looked at this gorgeous black woman with eyes held up was in awe. Then I saw it.

A sunset. Sometimes that's all it takes to put a city in a trance. It took me like a wonderful beautiful punch to the stomach. Surreal. Vibrant clouds skidded across the sky, rays piercing and threading themselves in warm golden ribbons. I had remembered them from childhood, but after aging and finding a purpose, forgot that they were real, much like Jesus and Santa Clause. And there was a renewal. Sunsets only happened in times of extreme hope. Friends on the beach full of dreams slump together in it's presence and conjure a future beyond perception. Not in the middle of a city during the evening commute.

This kind of beauty is why god was created. To explain a joy of presence beyond our own. A hope that we receive during extreme trials. Bringing life into our etiolated existence. An existence of windowless cubicles and supply and demand and fear of poverty and our basic values.

But what were these values? A car? Thursday nights at Hmong Bin for pho and tea? When did we forget to value the mystique of our everyday life?

But right now there was a group of collective consciousness. Standing at t green light with no particular place that was more important that right there at the moment. Just to breathe and inhale the sunset with twelve other people. Smiling at the pleasure we were receiving; a brief glimpse of something beyond us. Maybe Santa Clause was real...