Even in Destruction

I’m sitting in a chair in the hallway of an old campus building. I face a large window. The view? Terrible. It’s all construction: colossal machines rise up like prehistoric monsters. The skeletal, metal neck of a crane crosses the window. Hammering, scraping, beeping, pounding, and smashing signal the sounds of destruction. The building to the right crumbles.

But I’m here because the sun shines so brightly that it feels like a greenhouse right here. I’m basking in it.

I remember that in the right light, it’s all beautiful.