It was a couple of weeks back when I spent the whole of Friday night (and early Saturday morning) doing anything but sleeping. I went to my friend's house for her birthday party. I played drinking games in which I didn't drink. I hung out at mamak's with people I don't know. I watched Chicago for the first time. In other words, things that I don't usually do.
Good fun, good people, good times.
What made is the best of times, however, is something that happens every single day.
It was around 7am, as I made my way back to my friend's place with another friend of mine. When we got there, the sun was just rising. We took the opportunity to sit down and look at it.
At first, the orangeness of the sun was quite fade. Then it brightens, so much so that the orange is no longer there. It was replaced by a yellowness that melts my heart. The view gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, one that I get when I am confronted with a thing of such beauty. It feels like no words can do it justice.
I took a deep breath, trying to take in as much of the scene as possible. Our position was prime to its slow arch as it greets the world for another day.
A couple of birds flew across that bright sphere. It seems that they are in a rush to be somewhere. I wonder why it is, what they might lose by stopping by and admiring. Then I realised.
To me, the sunrise carries with it a sense of beauty that inspires a million thoughts about a thousand things. It is something that makes me wish and hope, that allows me to feel melancholic and tells me no matter what happens, tomorrow is another day. Another day in which to love and to cherish.
To the birds, it is something that happens everyday.