Epiphany

[thomryng]

I was walking past Wright Park, with its dark green trees and quasi-victorian statuary, while the snow fell in swirling ragged clumps around me. (Let those who have eyes, see.) The plaintive, melancholy chant of a throat-singer filled me, thanks to the magic of iPod. (Let those who have ears, hear.)

A startlingly pure and beautiful moment.

Even with the sound turned off, it would have been arresting.

Cars, buses, people mad-dashed all around me, bent on their destinations, impervious to the world and indifferent to the moment.