Staring at the sun is not the best of ideas. Side effects include walking into walls and loss of vision immediately afterwards. You blink repeatedly in a most retarded fashion.
But it’s a great feeling.
Particularly when it’s the five o’clock lazy waning sunlight of late winter in Madras.
And you’re leaning against a wall that has a window to the West, the angle of the window so perfect that the sun drops right down on your face. Yellow light against white walls. Pigeons cooing softly somewhere out of vision. You can’t see anything except the sky outside, but that’s enough. More than enough. You’re squinting but you’re smiling. You’re all alone with the Sun. You close your eyes and upturn your face.
I don’t know why I feel like I was born into this moment, that this moment, this merging with the sunlight is my destiny.