It happened again. The sun set over the hills and he felt at peace. It was constant it was pure. The one thing he could count on in this world of fakes and phonies. The sky was filled with purples and pinks stretching across the horizon. Beauty unmatched, he thought.
It reminded him of one of those paintings he had seen in school. It was fieldtrip he remembered probably when he was about eleven. They had visited the museums that day. The Museum of Art was the last he entered. He had passed by the Renaissance section without a second glance. The modern era filled with its abstractness confused him. He remembered becoming quite bored actually and contemplating leaving but right at that moment he had spotted it. From its corner it called him, asked him for a visit. It was a sweeping landscape. The sun was disappearing over the rolling hills of some far off place. He was mesmerized by it and stood staring at the colors. The colors jumped off the canvas and enveloped him. They made him feel warm. It was like what he just witnessed. No, he thought, dont be silly. What he witnessed was better. It was real. No one could capture its real magnificence. It would be like bottling up nature and carrying it in your pocket. It was impossible.
He liked the idea of its routine. The sun rises than sets, it repeats. This thought made him feel good. Better than he had thought in a while. It had been too long since he had felt calm inside. It was peaceful. The last rays of light faded away and the world was shrouded in night. It was good he thought. He had discovered it and fell asleep dreaming of sunsets.
