Catching dusk.

I couldn't explain the dusk thing. So I am back, because Mongo Beti, an African writer, says it beautifully:

"Every evening, as the sun went down, the distinct features of village and surrounding forest merged in dark anonymity, and night spread across the sky like a great velvet cloth, yet scarcely more sombre than the tropical undergrowth which it obscured. And every evening, watching this metamorphosis, I thought: Look your fill. A darkening picture, perhaps; but look closely, you cannot risk forgetting it. When you remember it in after time, think of your pleasure at recalling every minutest detail, even the infinite gradations of shading in the evening sky, or the bird in the distant forest, sadly celebrating the faithlessness of each fickle day, like a boy weeping for his mother's death. Think of the grey, neutral banana-trees, their sharp outlines melting into the darkness till they take on the semblance of ghosts. Think, last, of the moon, rising in splendid self-annunciation behind the tangled trees, unlooked-for and incredible, slowly climbing till she rode clear at last, tranquil as a goddess, gleaming, radiant." --Mission to Kala


Mmmm. I suppose if you are born here, you should naturally be able to write beautifully. In other words, I really regret not taking a picture of the sun this morning. And later I will try to catch dusk.