Tell me the story of how the sun loved the moon so much, he died every night to let her breathe.
As the sun lowered, the sky became intense: a divine fusion of reds, purples, and blues. The warm sand affixed to our bodies and lodged in our hair, we gazed upwards to bid the sun a goodnight until tomorrow. The waves of the sea would quieten, lapping ever-so lightly: comforting, serene. The moon, in its sharp crescent form, slowly shimmered through the dancing colours, patiently waiting for its moment to shine brilliant in the dark of the night.
We cherished this beauty for five days; we were captive to dusk’s charm. With each sunset, an overwhelming gratitude for the day just passed and those yet to come would overcome us. Silence. We would sit in silence, observing.
This is what sunset is. This is what sunset means.
Beautiful. Precious. Exquisite.