Contrary to the proverb, it’s never darkest before the dawn. As I stood looking out to the eastern horizon, the few clouds in the sky shone in brilliant silver against a metallic cobalt vault. Behind me the sky slowly yielded from midnight blue to lighter hues. Today, as for every other day for the past couple of millennia, there was quite a crowd for the day’s opening event. Scores of people were waiting for the sun to rise. They all wanted a good view of the sunrise and had been sitting on the slopes of the hillsides to ensure an unobscured view. The sun rose, initially peeking over the horizon like the tiniest gem of fire. The first rays of light shot over land into the hearts of the watchers, bringing with it a promise of rebirth and renewal. As long as we had the sun we too would be reborn each day. Like the sun we would return from the sleep of the night and we would never truly die.
At least this is one explanation of the morning’s events. I was unable to ask my fellow spectators if this was a correct interpretation, as they had all been buried for centuries.
The opening page from my MPhil dissertation and the only bit of writing I’ve where I’ve been happy with an early draft. The rest of the dissertation is awful.