Today is a beautiful day.

Winter light hits a brick wall at four in the afternoon and goes briefly orange, and almost nobody in the street looks up. It happens most clear days of the winter, on the same wall, and it is finished by twenty past. Attendance is optional and nearly everyone declines.

Beauty in an average day is not hiding. It is simply above eye level, or behind you, or lasting ninety seconds while your head is down and you are composing an email in your mind.