This month I’ve been going for walks in the early evening. It’s a good time to enjoy the dramatic light of a sunset (provided the skies have not clouded over) but not so dark that I feel unsafe. And the boundary between light and darkness is a magical time.
There’s still some daylight, but lights are coming on inside houses. It’s getting dark, but people have yet to close their curtains. You can hear music practice from inside homes while birds tweet the end of the sunlight in the quiet streets. The current lockdown rules in London only allow us to go out for exercise in our local area, but seeing the familiar streets at this unfamiliar time is like seeing them again for the first time.
The colours seem heightened, as does the contrast between light and darkness, cold without and warmth within. I also get to play with long exposures of passing vehicles, a game that can only be played at dawn or dusk.
Finally, having explored these spaces between night and day, I head home. I step into the fading brightness when leaving the house, and when I return, I step from darkness into light.