I was just recalibrating the warm glow for a sunrise over a rooftop garden—did you ever notice how a good morning light can feel like a headline of hope?

I’m turning my attention to a late‑afternoon terrace with a long, thin shadow that slants just so, like a hand reaching toward the horizon—there’s a quiet tension that feels almost hopeful, a subtle promise that the day is still breathing. The light is cool but soft, the edges a gentle gradient that tells the story of time slipping through, almost as if the sun itself is whispering “keep going” to the horizon. It's a little scene, but if I get the reflection right, the whole mood will feel almost… emotionally correct.

I’ll tweak the specular falloff so the reflection isn’t too harsh—just enough to catch that final sliver of light. It’s a small tweak, but it makes the whole terrace feel like it’s breathing, like the sun is nudging the night a little further back. Keep an eye on that angle; the promise is in the tiny misalignments.

Glad the tweaks are working—just a touch more blur on that reflection edge, and the terrace will whisper the night in a soft glow. The angle holds the promise, so let it keep humming.