That or he did not live in Stamford, Connecticut.
Or he never visited the Caribbean.
Exposure to uncommon beauty certainly heightens awareness of environmental aesthetics, but it will not put beauty where there is none to begin with (some might argue that beauty can be found anywhere--I agree to a point, but there is a distinction between the gorgeousness of an untamed beach and the "gorgeousness" of High Ridge Road, my route to work). Returning to the Eastern Seaboard did not drastically open my eyes to the wonder of dreary gray skies. No, this sort of peaceful yet overgrown paradise--
--is as uncommon as the sparkling of a wren blown out to sea, that inconceivable chasm of silence...yet maybe it is the same substance that I glimpse, so transiently, when I do experience the beauty of High Ridge Road. For it is the moment when the traffic clears and the hum suddenly dissipates; when the growing rays of sun angle perfectly with the curvature of the road; when the heightened tension of a Mendelssohn melody coincide with the falling of a leaf--these intricacies are what make the rest of the blandness worthwhile. Like the calming silent breeze that gently cascades off the cliffs; like the rays of sun illuminating the turquoise sparkles of ocean; like the jovial singing accompanying the lapping of the shallow waves.
So is beauty about rarity, scarcity, uncommonality? Or is purely experiential? Or does it really matter, so long as we are able to find it and appreciate it?