Twenty-seven years ago today, my family saw its first Australian sunset.
My mother is on holiday in Malaysia right now. My dad, what remains of him, in an urn at Karrakatta Cemetery. If it hadn’t been for my parents wanting more for their family, we would probably still be in Malaysia. The air felt so dry that day we arrived, compared to the humidity of the tropics we’d just left behind. I’m spoilt for sunsets these days. I don’t remember ever seeing so many when I lived in London.
Funny how thoughts like these just park themselves in the head, in no particular order.
Not the most inspiring photograph, I’ll give you that, but it was like that this evening. Not all that much going on. The steady dip of the ever reddening sunset was enough to keep me occupied. That and the thought of the weekend and the Bureau of Meteorology’s promise of high-30s/low-40s temperatures in coming days.
I managed to race out of the office as it nudged 9pm tonight. I’d missed the day.
Just as well I’d caught this sunset a few days ago.
Even days afterward, right now, I’m tired and over it, but I can’t forget how that sunset filled the apartment with red and gold, and for a brief moment, I believed in Something.
Honestly, I wasn’t thinking much at the time, certainly not about whether it would make a worthwhile shot.
Well, no, I lie. I was thinking: “Is that her REAL hair?!” And then I noticed the fake hair extension clips on the roots at the base of her head. I don’t understand why anyone would go for fake hair extensions – shoddy ones – and then put her hair up in a pony which reveals all that clippy fakery. It wasn’t good. I kept trying to look away, but I just couldn’t pull my eyes away from it. In my defence, the sun was blinding and it was hard to look anywhere else.
That’s right, I blame the slow sunset.