Sunday afternoon, tiptoeing into evening. Above me, orange is slowly fading into pink. I am waiting for what follows: for the deep blue to appear, like the sea washing up, and for everything to go quiet, until all around me has turned to ink. Night. Then the moon shows her face, like a lover opening a window.

Until then:

“A drink…”
Taneda Santōka

a drink
would be nice now
sunset sky

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