A sunset can make all the difference in a day, deceiving our senses and playing with our perceptions, much like a good magician. For its final act of the day, the sun, with white gloves and top hat, waves a wand at all of us. Pigeons burst from tulips and flower pots full of rainwater turn into swirling snifters of brandy. Our bodies refract light like prisms illuminated from the inside. We glow like white candlelight as if we were newborns again. When the grand finale arrives the steady pace of excitement and energy of the show is condensed into one small moment. Presto! Shot by a slug of sunlight, blood runs down our backs and drips off our finger tips, a thick and golden yellow, as if our innards were made from a large and juicy peach. Here, we succumb to the sleight of hand. Here, we look straight into the eyes of the magician and surrender reservations. We shed our coats and packs and toss them to a pile on the ground. Our world is suddenly his world, and for a moment we forget there ever was a wall between them.
