That fleeting moment when the sun bows out and the streetlights blink awake—there’s something magical about it. A hush, a shift, a quiet handing over of time.

Day’s last breath, night’s first whisper. The night creatures stretch, the day ones retreat. And for a brief, golden moment, both share the stage.

Transitions are like that. They hold the past, hint at the future, and let us linger in the present just long enough to feel the change.

And isn’t that where the real magic happens?