Day 22: Bassano del Grappa

I have never been more awed by the sky. It's a daily thing: now. 

How do you watch a sunset? Every blink it changes. Your eyes, slowly crossing. I want to find the point where orange becomes red, where white turns into lavender, where the edge of that bumpy cloud suddenly glows with a lava rim.

But I can't. Because everything else wants watching too. The cypress with its wavering tip. The church point solid on the hill. The smoke, a soothing scent with heavy richness, dusting backward up from the roof. I wish I had one thousand eyes.

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