Suncatcher

There is a point – the smallest little pinprick of a point – where the city turns dark and silhouettes and shadows fall like cloaks onto walls and buildings and streets. And just as you think that darkness has come the clouds will shift and part and sunlight will surge through, bounding. Grabbing one final surface before it disappears into night.

It is as if King Midas himself has reached through the sky and has stroked the shape or form he finds favour with. It is gold, pure gold. It is as if you have been sitting all alone in a darkened room and suddenly a band comes, playing your favourite songs on golden trumpets.

It is as if you have been transported to ancient Egypt caught in a moment of worshipping the sun gods. It is wondrous. It is rapture.

If you were smart you would be able to harvest that gold. You would string nets made from the edges of clouds on the buildings and gather all of that gold. You would store it in glass jars that lit up the night, trading it for wishes and smiles.

Whenever I see the sunlight burnish the buildings in the city in that tiniest of moments before twilight claims the land; I imagine myself, booted, wearing a hat with the whitest of feathers, flinging my nets wide and far. Dreamer, wishkeeper, suncatcher.

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28 thoughts on “Suncatcher

    1. I totally relate to zombie mode, Slamdunk. Been like that for the last week. It always cheers me up to chreck out what’s going on in the neighbourhood, though. I couldn’t get by without seeing the sights and the sounds!

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  1. Hi Selma,
    You certainly have a beautiful way of putting words together, as usual a wonderful read, and a really great photo to go with it all. 🙂

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  2. You have captured one of the most beautiful sights in this world – the vanishing sunlight of every dusk (well most days) – and one of my favourite sights (and one that always makes me a little sad as I wish I could hold on to it for longer) – lovely photograph and even more beautiful writing Selma 🙂

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    1. I am so glad you said that about the sadness, Gabe, because I feel that too. I sort of feel reluctant to let the light go in case it doesn’t come back again. It is such a wondrous sight!

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  3. I don’t think I’ll look at our city at dusk in quite the same way ever again, Selma 😀 Love the photo and the perspective from which it is taken behind those wonderful cable lines of the ANZAC bridge – all the lines lining up on the diagonal – fantastic!

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    1. I love those cables, Bluebee. They are so thick you can imagine them holding up the world. I have to be honest and say this photo was a bit of a fluke but I am pleased with how it turned out!

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  4. Selma, this was the most beautiful post I’ve read in 2012.

    I really loved this paragraph:

    ‘It is as if King Midas himself has reached through the sky and has stroked the shape or form he finds favour with. It is gold, pure gold. It is as if you have been sitting all alone in a darkened room and suddenly a band comes, playing your favourite songs on golden trumpets.”

    Wow. I really wish I could write like that!

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  5. Love this pic and tonight as I was making dinner, I looked out toward the Toronto sky line and I saw almost the same thing. Light was different, it didn’t have that golden hue you have at that time of the year now but it was lovely all the same and I thought about this shot and wished for a much better camera to capture it to show you. 😉

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  6. I believe that you could catch that light in a little bottle and keep it there for as long as you like. There’s beauty in nature & the universe that surrounds us.

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