I have witnessed yet another showcase of fireworks the week before last.

Just recently I realized something: I love watching fireworks work. They're a beautiful mess in the heavens; radiantly so creative and bright. The canvass is the wide black sky: and then it flies, scattering specks of dazzling light and piercing vivid bangs. A shower of colors; whatever explodes mix perfectly with the others. Luminous blue pairs with green - while yellow and red gracefully falls down (they have this effect of descending slowly, like when something sinks in water).

And when they ride the air, everyone stops and stares. I once took my attention off the fireworks (that was hard) and had a peek at the faces around me: most of them had this facial expression of seeing something so pure. I don't know, I can't express it well enough - but when my eyes too lay themselves on those soaring, dancing explosions, I feel as if at those moments, the world stops, feels the evening air, and pause all the sadness and regrets - enchantment, maybe.

Photo courtesy of a friend of mine - let's just name her Gabrielle.