LOVING, THAT LIGHT
In the emergence of Dawn, the day aroused, there might be a moment to grasp the light.
Hold fast, that beginning.
I see that as a metaphor — how to grasp, and hold firm, gently, in hand and mind, the day.
I awake in the dark, but I’m always looking for the light.
Spying out, the long horizon, the ridged teeth of the Cascades, the shimmering trees — the plains casting the dust of morninglight, or the vaulting sky, scraped by buildings — the stretching perspective of the illumed concreted corridors. Every day begins — softened, striking, sparkling, misted, jaggedly shadowed — each, their own beginning.
Now, in the storm of a New York morning, lightning clashes, thunder bellows into the heart of the building — and in holding this day, I stride into the wind and rain — holding the light in my heart, as Dawn has long settled into the beginnings of being.
GIRVIN | NYC: telling stories, the brand
the strategy of memory, place, emotion