It's hard to tell whether this beautiful moment is the calm before the storm, or the consolation after it. Colors melt and twist into thin air, becoming nothing, leaving only a searing mark in the back of your eyes for a millionth of a second. Everything has been flipped, and it is agonizing to come back down when our aim has been on the sky above. Even seeds accidentally planted leave a shadow once they are grown.
There aren't any words to define this feeling, so we combine pictures and poetry and music until it seems to make a tiny bit of sense. This time, we strive not to explain it to others, but to make sense to ourselves.