I love fireworks. They’re pointless, noisy and fleeting. They are potentially dangerous and expensive.
What else would draw perfectly sane people to huddle in a field up to their ankles in mud or worse?
Even the names are colourful – rockets, Roman candles and Catherine wheels.
Maybe it’s the transience of the rainbow explosion that’s so very special. After all photos and film of pyrotechnics are just a damp squib.
It could be a form of mindfulness, in-the-moment ooohing and aaaaahing, but then again, it’s mostly just a lot of fun.
This post was inspired by Vonnie’s prompt for day five of NaBloPoMo.
Posted with Blogsy
Nothing wrong with a moment of wonder. It keeps us honest, I think. It gives us back a fleeting moment of childhood and nostalgia and a yearning for 'that' time and 'that' place. It makes us better for just a moment.
It's true – you can't be anywhere else when the fireworks are going off.