Anyway, I had this realization because, driving north, I had the most spectacular view of the mountains, which were suddenly much more noticeable because they were on fire. I knew this. I’d heard about the
And, as the sun set, it was apocalyptically beautiful. Is it wrong to find the apocalypse beautiful? Maybe “sublime”—the way Kant (I think) defined it—is a better word: something that prompts thoughts of the infinite and as a result inspires awe (because the infinite is pretty fucking cool) and fear (because the infinite is pretty fucking scary).
I tried to describe it to AK, but describing a huge wall of flames bearing down on your city and the park you’ve just recently come to appreciate doesn’t really work. She had to see it for herself, looking over her shoulder as we drove south.
“I hadn’t seen it before,” she said. “I saw smoke, but nothing like that. I hadn’t seen that.” She paused, a little dumbfounded. “That’s all I can really say. I hadn’t seen it.”