Friday, November 17, 2006
Sunrise in Westminster, CO
I don't sleep well when I'm away from home. When it's a business trip and I'm flying solo, it's even worse. As much fun as it is to be exploring a new part of the world and meeting fascinating new people, I miss the comforts of home. I miss the voice of the person who chose me and the voices of our children. I admit I'm not entirely comfortable with the tomb-like silence of an empty hotel room.
Add in the differences in time zones and I often find myself waking up at 3 or 4 a.m. This time, I stared at the ceiling for a while before I pulled out my notes and re-read them. I'm not sure what prompted me to look up after I'd been at it for a while, but when I did, I noticed the sky had gone from pitch-black to rather bright - and it was growing a bright orange strip just above the horizon.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen the sunrise. So I prepared a makeshift tripod - an empty water bucket and some big towels - and got the camera ready.
As the clouds were gradually turned into the color of fire by the rising sun, I shot as many pictures as I could, hoping to capture the one that would symbolize that very lonely moment when the world was waking up, and a stranger in a quiet hotel room tried to record it all so he could tell the story when he got home.
Your turn: How do you explain our fascination with the rising sun? What do you feel - as opposed to think - when you see this image?
The view from the balcony, October 2009