I was struck by this scene on the way out this morning. I’ve walked past it a thousand times: the light was probably different. I was struck by the oval lit by the first sun and the black of the foliage of neighbouring plants against the light. In the past few days, I have been thinking that if there were no differences, there would be no beauty (or ugliness), and life would be monotonous at best. But this morning, other thoughts came to me. The shadow that so drastically opposes light and dark is what the scene said to me at that instant: ‘stop, you are beautiful’ (‘Verweile doch! DU bist schön!’ – Goethe). But I also know that shadow is transient, and light will show me reality later: the difference between light and shadow will no longer exist. I should prefer the truth, what I know, the unveiling through illumination because this truth brings me freedom (the name of the ‘Statue of Liberty’ was ‘Liberty Enlightening the World’). But I prefer this other plane: where light and shadow harmonise and speak to me; they make me stop and look, to discover, to understand. And that is enough for me. I prefer it. When I uncover my body from my clothes, it feels like I become all-eye: my feet feel the ground, the breeze cools my arms and back, dries my sweat. Nature does something to me, something good. And I let it, I trust, I feel compact: and the osmosis with the variety in nature measures my step, my eye, my thinking.