From great height the world looks very small. From great height the beauty is in the delicateness. The sun was beginning to set, casting a red glow over the city of London.
Looking down I can see the dying light reflecting off the great building’s windows. To my right the sloped roof of Canary Wharf is almost too bright to look at, blinding.
It is above me, but not by much.
My children are at school, my wife at work, they have no idea of the journey I’m going to go on. The meaning I am going to find in those few revelatory seconds.
I stepped forward into nothingness. I rode the sunset.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.08 seconds at 11:54am on Nov 08, 2024 via server WEBX2.