There can be something immensely depressing about experiencing dusk in the city.
Perhaps it is the sense of futility one gets from seeing humankind continue to rush around heedlessly, even as Nature prepares itself to succumb to the natural order of the world – Rest.
It is time to rest, but humans stubbornly press on, confident that we can squeeze out that last bit of efficiency to make our day more worthwhile. One more errand. One more meetup. One more call. One more hour.
By dusk, we are surrounded by dust from the entire day’s regrets, settling like a shroud around our unwilling body.
We are tired from running the race, demoralized to see that we are no closer to winning the race against time than a day before.
The dimming light behind the trees does nothing to calm our nerves against the growing dense of desperation, the sense that time is slipping through our very fingers, as subtle and as unstoppable as the air we take in.
It is dusk, and there is nothing we can do to stop its onslaught.
Sometimes, dusk in the city can be that beautiful, and that depressing.