Witnessing the Northern Lights

The first time I saw the Aurora Borealis, it was quite a sight. The lights were so bright that I didnt need a torch to see them while walking on the street. As I approached the riverbank, I noticed a crescent moon hung low over the water, almost touching it, with the Aurora appearing as a delicate curtain spreading across the night sky. The surrounding atmosphere was remarkably quiet.

At first glance, what one can see through the naked eye is this sensation. During non-flare periods, these lights are not very prominent because the entire sky is painted in a pale purple, and their brilliance can illuminate the path. However, during flare periods, the Aurora becomes much more vivid and impressive, as if alive with light and movement. The colors range from pastel white to bright green, constantly swirling and forming shapes reminiscent of a flowing river or graceful dancers. When looking up at vast open spaces, one can see the Aurora stretching from distant horizons all the way to their heads, as though it were an enormous umbrella covering them. On the edge of a large body of water, the Aurora spreads out in light trails, creating an effect that feels both real and slightly monotonous when viewed through a camera with slow shutter speed. Taking photos with a delay in exposure might capture a better image. The feeling of boredom could stem from overly high expectations for such an astronomical phenomenon. What does this phenomenon signify to us? Perhaps our imagination has created more works of art than reality can offer.

As I walked back home, I was still able to see the green-purple light trails outside the window, and the night sky above was bright, now well into early morning with the sun barely rising. There was no time left for further contemplation or analysis. Perhaps the Aurora will forever remain associated with fatigue in my mind as much as it does with wonder in others hearts. My brains random associations seem to be out of the ordinary.