As the day yields to night, the horizon paints itself in hues that seem to vanish as quickly as they appear. These sunsets, once vibrant and full of life, now exist only in the corners of our vision, their colors fading into the ether like the last notes of a song. Each sunset is a fleeting moment, a transient beauty that slips away, leaving behind only the faintest whisper of its former glory.
The colors of that sunset were like nothing I had ever seen before—rich, deep, and impossibly vibrant. Yet, they existed only in the corner of my vision, as though they were meant to be glimpsed rather than fully observed. It was as though the very act of looking directly at them caused them to fade, like a shadow disappearing under the light of day. I tried to hold onto the memory, to capture the essence of those colors, but they slipped away, leaving only the faintest whisper of their existence. It was a fleeting moment of beauty, a reminder that some things are meant to be felt rather than seen. I can still see them, if I close my eyes and let the memory drift just beyond my grasp. It’s there, waiting, if I dare to look away.
