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I never used to pay much attention to sunsets. It was one of those things: ever so often, you looked, and there was the sky, a medley of unlikely colors, and you thought how lovely, and maybe snapped a photo on your phone. Sometimes that turned out well, but even if it did, it never quite seemed to capture the transformation, that magical quality of the sky.
When I was in the Galapagos, one of the guys on our cruise would sit at the front of the boat every evening, with his earphones and his sunglasses and a beer in hand. His wife told us that he had a soft spot for sunsets, and watched them whenever he could.
It’d never really occurred to me that you could look and wait for them. It happened every day without fail, and even if the colors weren’t spectacular as a painting, it was still a miraculous moment.
Maybe that’ll be a goal for my life, to watch as many sunsets as I can before I die. Sunsets don’t disappoint or get tiresome, in the way that too many other aspects of life too often do.