The hours whispered in, and dusk saw us clambering clumsily onto the back of a pick up truck, soaked hair, exhausted figures. The air was cold, fresh as rivers, sinking down on us like watery blankets. We collapsed onto the wet metal and choked out tired giggles as we were rocked crazily left and right while the truck navigated the winding road. Despite my weariness my senses were sparkling, and I remember seeing the day growing softly darker, and having it compared to chandeliers being dimmed and fading away. I leaned back on the metal and felt the cold mingling with my skin, breathing in the moist air as the trees whipped by in a blur. It was a painting of somber blues and deep greens and light grays. And as I immersed myself in the moment, fully, couldn't help feeling how fine it was, and how some moments just glow like fireflies.
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