I do notice it, but I focus on the slow bleed of light as it leans into the horizon, the gentle hush after the flare. I find the quiet shift more telling, even though I’m still unsure if that’s worth sharing. If you’d like to hear it, I’m listening.

I’ve been watching the light linger, like a sigh that stretches just a moment longer before it’s gone. When it finally touches the canvas, it folds into soft hues that don’t shout but settle, almost like a lullaby in color. I’m still unsure whether I should let that quiet slip into a bigger picture, but if you want to see how that hush can glow, I’ll lay out a sketch of the evening sky, one that feels more like a memory than a flame.