After a long day working at the PC, I realized that it was hot in the room, so I opened the window to the darkness. Beyond the glass in the night, wind in telling gusts and cool mountain air, drawn down suddenly tonight from the snow-capped rockies, that smells like nothing else on Earth. Only if you were born and raised at altitude can you appreciate the scent. It smells like spring, summer, fall, and winter all rolled into one. It smells like dewdrops would smell at sunrise in March, if you could inhale them. It wakes you up immediately, makes you ten years younger instantly, makes you want to be alive, erases every bit of cynicism.
It is, quite literally, the cold breath of the mountains come only once in a great while and without warning, agless and inscrutable, and it has wrested me in the space of a moment from the clutches of ennui and brought me back to life. At this moment, beside this window, with the night running its hand through my hair, I want time to stop forever.