Time is a concept that has always eluded me.
It regularly escapes from my grasp and I rarely chase after it once it’s vanished.
I lose it in the day. I lose it in the night. I lose it while focused and while relaxed.
The only regular moments I feel I am fully aware of time are during sunrise and sunset.
Those two, magical times of day, both stop me in my tracks and make me take notice for a second.
I notice the change in colour of the sky, and in turn, the change in colour of everything around me.
I notice the change in temperature. And how that warm or cool change feels on my skin.
I notice the change in atmosphere. Sunrise is the shift from very quiet to slow bubbling of the waking up of most of the world. While sunset kick starts the nocturnal world.
I love, during sunset, the change in the feel of human interactions. Maybe it’s that they’re on their way home, or their long day is nearly done or they’ve just woken up and are getting ready for a busy night-shift. And of course there’s that distinctive going out for the night vibe too. But that shift, for whatever reason, that comes with the lowering of the sun and the rising of the blanket of night sky, holds a special kind of magic for me.
It’s magic hour.
How incredible is it that we have these two times of day, where our skies display such intense, powerful colours as we shift from night to day and day to night — and we get to watch it.
Pretty damn spesh.