Today was better than yesterday, which means it was a good day.
As class ends, I look through the louvres on the west end. The olive green of the hills has faded to a deep purple, contrasted by the rustic orange of the soon-to-be-night sky.
Twinkling lights of the distant homes read as perforations in the hills, with the sky bursting through.
With the perceived mass of the mountains gone, they seem like paper motifs. Readily blown over by the night breeze or burnt up by the fire of night lights.
Presently, in fact, they fade completely into the dark sky and are no longer of effect. All I see is the sparkle of lights from the abodes which house life.
Yes, today was a good day.