Of course it wouldn't be right to be able to take a star home in your pocket. Part of the great beauty of fireworks, and a large part of what makes me cry at all the displays (especially this one) is their ephemeral nature. You are confronted with increasing beauty, sound, light. This leads to the eventual heart-pounding (literally, from the force of the explosions), hold-your-breath finale. After that, all you should be left with is tear-stained cheeks, ash on your face and hair, a whiff of gunpowder smoke, and a return to adulthood. A rueful memory of things past. The hope that, God willing, you'll be able to experience it again next year.
No comments:
Post a Comment