Strangely enough, there's more to this evening than just the quaintness of its breeze, the comforts of its temperament, the simple truths of its twilight.

There's a certainty, a finality that feels almost sorrowful. All of a sudden it becomes clear. Some things are never meant to return. No matter how tightly you hold them in your grasp or how strongly you bend your memories upon them, they will dissipate in a cloud of rolling sand.

Like the concrete under our feet. Feel how its warmth pleads for friendship? How it timidly asks us to dance? Yet its hunger will only last as long as the afternoon holds out. Once night arrives, it will grow cold, unfeeling, hard and resolute. Our bare feet will no longer tangle with its basking glory, its glow, the breathing love in its stones.

And then there's the horizon. At the moment it seems like its arms reach to embrace us, the promise of a golden land of mana with cool and fragrant waters enveloping us in steams of tangerine... Scents of fruit and precision. But this, too, will pass in time.

This is the appeal of twilight. It shows us our dreams in unbridled color, but temporary and fleeting, strengthening its hold on our conscience.