The evening is a relaxing time, and feelings of silence pervade; maybe people’s thoughts are no longer there. They’ve gone home as if the machine of society has come to rest or a halt, yet on the other side of the world, people are active in their lives. Some would say the world is awash with darkness; at night, there are shades of hues from natural and artificial lights. A few hours before twilight, there’s a sunset conveying something. What does it say to other people? Perhaps there are thoughts of the past, a childhood memory, then there could be a sound, yet with all the outside sounds, there’s a feeling of the world closing down, and another is about to begin. Was this world heard in a poem? There is something imaginative about the reddish-orange glowing clouds. One can imagine being somewhere else in the world of imagination, with so many questions to ask about the coming evening.
It’s not night yet. In its early twilight, the city has become grayish-blue. Blue still dominates, and some white clouds still receive light from the fading sun. The clouds are grayish-blue across the sky, the city’s lights are glowing, and the faraway mountains are a dark silhouette. There’s a strange feeling with a bridge lighted. Where is it going? The waters had turned dark blue, not everything had a bluish cast, the lamps of the city cast amber-yellow, and buildings had turned a golden hue.
A dark blue sky has become very dark blue, the water of the bay is almost black, and golden reflections in the distance from amber light create a thin line on the waters. Still, in the space towards the mountains are a faint glow of the city lights. With the seas becoming dark, it’s like a fairytale world coming to life.
The white concrete of the building had turned a brownish-purple, mixing hues, amber blues, and grays. Windows from the building form patterns, each window with its intensity of light, the life of people behind them. There is one particular window with a lamp creating an almost S-shape with a figure silhouetted, conveying a strange feeling coming out of science fiction or a peculiar world. The life from those windows is or seems silent.
Robert J. Matsunaga