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“We make it back outside for my favourite time of day, golden hour swarming our senses. Pink intersperses with the blue and grey of the sky, like a beautiful storm is coming. What's left of the sun softly punches our faces, discouraging sobriety. A young girl passes us, hand in hand with her mother, the other hand an open palm, feeling for the light in the world. Del turns to me, the black of her eyes full and open.” — Caleb Azumah Nelson
We make it back outside for my favourite time of day, golden hour swarming our senses. Pink intersperses with the blue and grey of the sky, like a beautiful storm is coming. What's left of the sun softly punches our faces, discouraging sobriety. A young girl passes us, hand in hand with her mother, the other hand an open palm, feeling for the light in the world. Del turns to me, the black of her eyes full and open.