When I sit, with my orange socks on, an arms length from the highest point in Europe, it thrills and pains me equally because I know, after a time, I have to leave. Down there my mind isn't this still, I don't feel this rapture, I'm not so overwhelmed by the extreme majesty of God's vast and creative expression.
But up here I am, and I can barely breathe. I'm overwhelmed. Desperate. Taken.