There’s nothing like seeing familiar sights anew to make a person appreciate what he takes for granted. Just one tiny shift in point-of-view makes the familiar seem so unexpectedly exciting. I love those moments when, as David Byrne once put it, you suddenly notice the color of white paper, and I was treated to one yesterday.
Being a North Austinite, I rarely find myself needing to go from East-bound 71/Ben White/290/Whatever-the-hell-they-call-it-now to I-35 North, so I’d never driven the new (to me anyway) overpass that connects the two highways. Nevertheless, yesterday, I was ascending the overpass thinking, Man, I am up here!, and as the roadway bent northward, a stunning view of the city that I’d never before seen rolled into view. The overpass is high enough that you can look down on St. Edward’s University, which is usually hidden, and clearly see the main building dominating the foreground, and in the background, the downtown skyline rises up from the trees in a way that the buildings all seem to huddle together making them seem somehow taller and the city denser than it appears from some of its other views.
The crisp wintry air that (finally!) arrived the other day just made it appear all the more inviting.
White paper never looked so white.
James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.
Austin does has a beautiful skyline, epecially for a town of its size. My favorite spot in the city has always been sitting on the Colorado River in a rowing shell.
Yeah, that is a nice view and more peaceful than zipping along a highway overpass, as well.