A rectangle of light shone, illustrating the infinite negative space surrounding it.
It was a end-of-the-tunnel or baby-opening-it's-eyes-for-the-first-time kind of light.
It was luminous and purely unique, because well, everything else was dark.
It was blinding to me.
I had seen this rectangle many times, though it seemed indistinguishable from the darkness back then.
Eventually there was a soft, pulsing glow that began to reverberate through its frame.
A glow that grew over years of slow movement.
My wide eyes peered through the window.
The man inside the windowed light was sitting, metal keys tapping beneath his moving fingers.
A woman appeared from I know not where. She watched the focused man.
He turned and laid paper in her hands. Her eyes raced and then she smiled.
I wondered at the two.
The light grew in its luminosity and the woman appeared again.
She sat. Then shook. Her face reflected the light with its dampness.
But the light didn't fade. The man entered and hugged her. The light didn't fade.
By now I was captivated by the interplay of these creatures.
I noted the steady glow. They both came into view.
They were conversing it seemed. He stared at her, her at him.
His face streached forward and they connected. The light exploded.
My wide eyes blinked quickly in swift adjustment to the light.
The light began to gain quality and clarity and shape.
It curled, weaved, pulsed, billowed, flamed, blinded.
Then the man rested a knee on the ground and spoke.
It is difficult for even one with so keen an eye for light as myself to describe how the light changed next.
