Gray

There is this certain time of day when the sun has set--not so far that the edge of the horizon has completely stopped burning red--and the world sinks into a soft gray. Often we don't see this coloring because we're in our homes where we only see blazing bright natural and artificial light or utter darkness when we turn our lights off just before going to bed. This moment doesn't last long; it rushes by, like the world is closing its tired eyes, you feel the Earth breath and the air heavy on your skin, then the color is gone--changed to shades of black.

If you haven't done it recently turn the lights off in your house right after the sunsets. Breath that air. Please be careful though, if one were to be listening to the right music with the rain gently tapping against the window, one might run the risk of being translated straight up to heaven.

I suspect it happens in the morning too. I might investigate tomorrow morning, normally I'm not awake early enough to know. And if I am awake I've turned lights on and the gray passes over my house without my knowledge.