Sun descending over open water

The horizon glows like a page lit from beneath. The sun rests at its edge, not quite gone, not yet alive. The sea reflects it in fragments — lines of molten orange stretching toward the viewer before dissolving back into blue.

Two sailboats drift within that glow, caught between motion and suspension. They look less like vessels than punctuation, quiet marks dividing the expanse. Behind them, land extends into shadow, its contour dark against the radiance. The eye moves from light to water to darkness, tracing a rhythm that feels both natural and deliberate.

The photograph is a meditation on transition. It captures not an event, but the idea of one — a sun fading, a sky cooling, a world waiting to turn. Nothing in the frame moves quickly; the beauty comes from how gently it all changes.