…

And with even more power than the setting of the sun, he sat down on the park bench. The light was fading and he sat and thought as it traveled to the other shore of the island, to another world, to an unknowable always tomorrow. Fire-cold red, unreal orange pierce his eyes—And he sees a parachute for our sinking star. In this light, the world takes on a different feeling: a nostalgia for each memory of the end of the day. The warm breeze pushed those images across his eyes.

The ending of a short day. A reminiscence of a long life.