ASDF
Where are you? I am on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The sun is coming down, or maybe it has already come down. What cliff? It is a cliff in Palos Verdes. I don't know the name. Well, I probably do know the name, but that doesn't matter here. What are you doing there? I am waiting. I am waiting for a moment. A precise moment. It is the moment when the sea and the sky become indiscernible from each other. When they cease to become two separate entities and are engulfed in a blanket of darkness as night arrives. A blanket? Maybe it is not a blanket. Maybe that's the wrong word. A blanket covers, and this is the opposite. It is a removing – a removing of the light. I think that word – a removing – will suffice here. And this moment? Yes, I am waiting for this precise moment. But maybe it's not so precise. Maybe when you've been staring in the dark for too long you can't tell when things aren't really there anymore. That is what I am waiting for: when things lose their presence. When they disappear. It's easy to imagine that things are still there in the dark. Maybe this moment slips by unnoticed. It is probably more a blur than a definite point. Yes, a blur. Somewhere in a slow dissolve. And can you tell me what is happening now? The sun has gone down and there is a layer of golden light lingering over the horizon. It is what the sun has left behind. Slowly this glow diminishes, and then darkness. And so this is your moment? No, there is still a distinction between the sea and the sky. They are two different shades of darkness. At this moment my attention is meticulously drawn on that line way out there. The horizon? Yes. The moment can come any second now, so I keep my eyes open waiting for it to
fade away into disappearance.
fade away into disappearance.