Breathless as I write about the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen in this concrete dungeon, cynical though I can be about this place, tired as I am of the nicotine that I was captive to, listening to the opera that I love and tried to ignore for 3 years; I want to describe the most beautiful painting that my eyes have just had the privilege of setting on. As I was sitting outside slightly annoyed at the neighbors nagging incessantly about this and that to their spouses, children, dogs, and whoever is willing or forced to lend an ear, I tuned out and looked up. It was that simple. I looked up. Gliding across the sky was an airplane with it’s landing gear ready for the ground. There was a sliver of orange piercing the belly of the plane; a reflection of a setting sun. As the plane split through the sky, I noticed the magnificence of what artists have tried to recreate for centuries. The sky looked like it was on fire the lower my eyes went. The colors were breathtaking, and as my eyes made their way up, the colors went from fiery to majestic. Magenta faded into blue, then to turquoise like the color of the ocean here in Miami, then to white, then to royal blue, then to indigo with the first traces of the stars beginning to wink their routine hello. Shooting through the sky were clouds that looked almost appetizing like cotton candy, twirling about playfully, soaking in the last rays of sunlight. The sharp palm tree silhouettes, barely distinguishable in between rooftops, the electrical wires winding their way through, tiny me writing a tiny story, in a tiny world where my toes are the size of half an atom compared to the ginormous painting created by a setting sun.