I lived for over twenty years in the city and I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I was able to savor the beauty of a sunrise.
If I ever did wake up early during those years, I did so to a rough shove from someone else or the shrill and merciless ringing of an alarm clock. Then it was a quick glance at the watch, a quick shower, an even quicker breakfast and the start of another mundane day.
In Lianga, I do not have the habit of waking with the sun. But when I am able to do so and the conditions are perfect, watching the start of the new day can be an experience in itself.
I agree that there is a sense of quiet joy as one sees the soft shimmer of light on the dark horizon grow into the soft yellow light of dawn. Time does seem to move a little bit slower as the pastel colors hardened into the harsh brightness of the new day. But there is angst there too - a touch of foreboding and a sense of loss.
What will the new day bring, one asks oneself? Who knows?
Some say that time is an illusion and it really does not exist. Maybe and maybe not. But for me as I watch every dawning day, a sunrise is time itself staring at me cold in the face.