The Hour

I like that hour of evening when darkness slowly infringes on and light refuses to depart. Light breaks into pieces so much so all the inner color flow out of its breast. Nothing is ferocious and nothing is calm. Still one can feel a roar that lies beyond this fall back. Light and darkness step on each other and sometimes they merge leaving us to decipher what is color and what is dark. It is the beauty of fading. Things are deep and mysterious when they are about to fade.
What pierce your soul is a beauty of melancholy which entwine sorrow with joy. Now you feel a suspension from all anchors.

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