Like reality could tear

I went for a long walk up the hill toward Twin Peaks. Mt Sutro Cloud Forest: it was fucking beautiful. Beautiful, BEAUTIFUL. Stood on the sidewalk, part way up a steeply slanted street, looking at the fog just dangling its diaphanous bits in the dark trees. And one of those brilliant red bottle-brush specimens in the foreground. I almost cried…wanted to cry…for some reason couldn’t. But I stood in awe of the gorgeous ethereality. And even then I thought to myself how frustratingly poor of a substitute language was for the heart-wrenchingness of such a scene. The first layer of inky green was unobscured, vivid and primal; the second layer taller, and more pale because dipped in mist; the third was a mystery – completely raped by fog, and invisible.

Then I found an awesome secret place. A set of steps off a tiny road, cut into a precipitous hillside. I walked down and up them in the rain…my umbrella stayed closed in my hand. I wanted to get wet. The rain fell softly, but I ached for it to pour. I yearned for it to pour on my face, get me drenched. I felt high on those steps – hallucinatory. Foliage encased the secret stairway. Trees, bushes, so many bright flowers, all covered in rain, vibrant and gigantic to the point of absurdity. The blooms larger than life – and me shrunken. The air seethed and quivered. I felt like I might just witness something absolutely not real. I felt like I wouldn’t be surprised by it, in that place. Like a creature from my head, from one of my unwritten stories, from any fantasy I’ve ever read, could very much appear in front of me. Like reality could tear, and that would be appropriate. It was almost inappropriate that it didn’t.

~ by kingzoko on January 13, 2012.

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