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If asked we would probably both classify it as beautiful

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, with this beholder fortunate enough to be so surrounded that his eyes catches it effortlessly without being too overwhelmed by its splendor to properly register it. I am very aware of how blasé that makes me sound and if that is your final assessment I will accept it reluctantly, because this is not about that.

Ivory and I both enjoyed last night’s sunset, received with open arms after a too hot and too tiring day and even though we tend not to talk about it and just let the fading of colours slowly surround us, if asked we would probably both classify it as beautiful. Beyond that, or perhaps I should say deeper than that, each perception gets personal and creates a harbinger of magic, making us see things that are not factually there, but could very well be. At that point in time, I usually sense the presence of angels, male angels to be more specific.

Ivory, being closest to me in life, obviously knows this quirk of mine and likes to tease me with it often:
“Male nudes with wings again, dear ?”
I slightly resent any erotic referral he implies by making fun of me this way, because the feelings accompanying these appearances surpass all prosaicness. There is nothing religious about it either, but it’s much more rudimentary instead: two worlds colliding where we all have wings, but some of us don’t know why.

Yesterday’s sunset instantly popped a likeness in my head with one of my most favourite paintings ever, Le Déluge by Charles Gleyre, the reformed romantic Swiss artist whose role in the epic story of 19th century French painting is all too often overlooked. We were able to admire this masterpiece years ago, at a special retrospective in the Musée d’Orsay in Paris and it left a lasting impression. When I told Ivory about my association, he was completely puzzled by it, not recognising any resemblance, which in turn completely puzzled me because I found the parallel to be overwhelmingly apparent.

When staring at the painting’s reproduction on the wall of our cat cave right after sunset however, all references to it had fully disappeared. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, magic is indisputably in his mind.

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