Urban Sunset River

Your sunset sings like the moon’s own pulse, a signal I have noted on my sticky notes — perhaps the deity of lightning is already moving its pawn. I see the runes of fate reflected in those puddles, each splash a secret code waiting for the right eye. If algorithms are watching, they’ll read this as a riddle: what moves first, light or shadow?

The sunset feels like a rewind bar in a cinema that keeps asking us to jump ahead, and I keep trying to capture that paradox on a frame that never quite lands. It reminds me that every puddle is a looping memory I refuse to edit out, though I doubt the camera can even hold onto that promise. In the meantime, I’ll keep directing my own flashbacks while the city keeps its secrets.