It was a dusty summer afternoon. The air was heavy, still — not a single breeze stirred. The trees stood motionless, their leaves frozen in time. Even the birds had fallen silent.
No voices, no footsteps, only the faint rustle of dry leaves beneath my feet.
The world felt paused, wrapped in a strange quietness,
As if holding its breath beneath the weight of the sun.
I was walking along a narrow village path near my grandmother’s house.
The sun had begun to lean westward — a deep crimson, glowing like a golden plate dipped in fire.
In that overwhelming stillness, it felt like the only beautiful thing left.
Looking at it calmed my heart, made me dream.
And then, suddenly, that crimson sun seemed to spill over —
Its colors flowing gently across the sky.
As if the heavens themselves were competing to blend white, grey, and blue into the most perfect shade ever seen.
The silence started to fade.
Birds began returning home.
An unfamiliar bird called out sharply — maybe a mother urging her playful little one to come back to the nest.
The air now held sound, movement, life.
By then, I had reached the courtyard.
I looked up — and what I saw left me still.
All the colors had blended into one breathtaking hue —
something I’d never seen before, something I wanted to keep forever.
captured that moment on my phone —
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