I love dusk. I can safely say it's my favourite time of day. I love the gradual blanketing of the world in soft shades of pink, peach, rose, lavender and robin's egg blue (for those unfamiliar with robin's egg blue, think Tiffany & Co.). Everything is softer, calmer, more serene. I think dusk has the extraordinary power to quell even the stormiest of moods. You know, as the sun snuggles into bed, it's as if the whole world blushes in unison to thank it for a hard day's work. I love dusk. I love the colours of dusk. I know I've already said that but I really do enjoy the warm, muted shades that seem to be moving all the time. You never have the same orange and pink for very long when it comes to dusk. And perhaps, that's the magic of it. That's why it's so precious to me. Because I know that dusk lasts for only a short period of time after which, the darkness takes over. You only have dusk for that brief moment in time and you want to hold on to that moment forever. You want to drown in the muted light of the dying day.

Day and night seem so blatantly clear. When it's day, it's bright and sunny. When it's night, it's a deep blue and black. Dusk is the vanishing bridge that links the two and often seems surreal, barely there, creative in its use of colours, mysterious in its identity.

And now, the evening has come. And it will be another day before I see the dusk again.