Ascending from a gelatinous dreamland you open your eyes and suddenly find yourself obligated to deal with the practicalities of an external universe.
Do not topple into that all-too-familiar state of dull, assumption-filled obviousness.
Unveil the curtains. Let the light enfold your skin. Concentrate on the luminosity and on the warmth.
Then remember that just 8 minutes ago these photons were spit out from the surface of the sun and have since then courageously journeyed 149.6 million kilometres, before now crash-landing on your tender face.
This is an Australian version of Eilert Vataker’s lovely sketch.
Burning the Books
Beginning or End?
Small blessings #4: Just a touch of rose.