Mango Twilight

It happened a couple months ago and I don't know why I waited, but the time is... now.

Ironically, it was because the electric storm thwarted our electricity that I found myself relaxing: witnessing the most amazing light show I have ever seen.

The sun was heading for brighter lands. The thunder still sounded in the distance, the rain was still softly falling, and the last of the dilated orange sun dangled a rainbow in the evening sky. The clouds overhead soon stopped their weeping and the sun slipped out of sight. Something lingered. Elusive light mingled around. I thought it was bright - until I tried to see. I thought it was dark - until I soaked up the glow. Everything was drenched in orange light. Long ago should the land and sky have been dark, but they refused to be. On and on it lasted. And on and on I watched. The trees, the sky, the clouds, the grass, the fresh rain; all were saturated in light. But the source was gone. It was half-light. No shadows, no glare, no distinct light or dark; nothing describes it better than glow.

The earth slowly diffused its light and the program ended. I think the answer lies in the clouds, quite literally. The clouds that initially covered the sun were the same clouds that reflected the sun's rays long after I could see them. In the simplest sense, they were a mirror. 

I always knew I liked indirect lighting.