In the half-light of late afternoon, as the amber hue of the sun flattens itself against the edge of the horizon, a certain stillness overtakes the air. It is a moment that feels remarkably like Shakespeare’s Summer’s Day, a moment that teases out a paradox: a day of such undeniable beauty that, in its very finitude, it begins to suggest the permanence of a love greater than any fleeting season.
Shakespeare’s sonnet, the quintessential meditation on beauty and mortality, promises a kind of immortality for its subject. And yet, as he reaches the final couplet, his words seem to carry the weight of an entire legacy, a vision of human achievement reaching out toward eternity.
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