I closed my book, walked out of the library and took the elevator down. Once outside I took my bike from the shed and cycled into the dark night. One of the first spring nights of the year. I saw a man staring at the sky. I followed his gaze.
And I startled. Against the dark, starry sky, there was this extraordinary thing. A giant rainbow filled the air. It wasn't a real rainbow, like one you'd see during the day. I could see the source coming from a university building in the distance. But the coloured rays of light were so strong and big, they pierced the sky for as far as I could see, covering the city. As I stopped to look, I saw the colours slightly hovering, almost like they made a sound. I felt like I could jump up and touch them. I saw them beaming across the freeway and imagined the people coming home from work, tired, weary even maybe, suddenly seeing this rainbow above the traffic lights. How they would wonder at this sudden marvel, just like I did.
This, I thought, is real art. You take something daily, ordinary (a rainbow) and make it into something extraordinary (a giant rainbow at night for the entire city to see). And it demands your immediate attention. You cannot look away. There's nothing you need to say. You just stare. Any thoughts about the past or future you had the moment before are gone. It's like receiving a gift. You know someone out there took the effort for you to see this. It unites. People around you see the same thing, and you know that about each other. It's all that counts in that specific moment, not the difference between you and the other, but the same thing you are looking at right here, right now.
