I remember the sunlight, heavy, thick with the dust of bygone days, floating and moving slowly away from my field of vision. The room is lit only from the single shaft of brilliance, like a knights lace at tournament, jousting away the dark. Back in the room I look out to see the massive jacaranda trees down the street framed in the gold that fills the room and fills the valley. The back wall of the valley is coated in a living wallpaper of orange glory. Ancient in it's spreading branches and beautiful, shading all who seek refuge, and raining the neon-purple gems that wilt and fade too soon.
It is nearly evening. Soon others will come, will come to force the routine to pick itself up form the floor where I left it, broken and tainted by this moment of release.
But until then I will stay free of it's grasp while I bathe in the gold that is already fading.
As I wait for this joy to dim so that regular life can keep going.

What would I do if it didn't stop? Grow bored? Be happy forever? No, I would soon begin to long for the bone-chilling cold that I once knew, the rushing dark that envelops all sooner or later.

This golden caress, the kiss of the sun, that are valuable because they are scarce.

To bathe in them too long is to relinquish control and abandon oneself to the moment completely. To do such is to live forever.

Alas, it has already faded. The Gold is gone and soon come the night. The rushing and pushing wind that I have come to love.