There’s a moment in the evening when the light slips between the city’s high-rises and side-streets at just the right angle.

A moment in the early summer when a gold/pink blush of lingering heat glitters with pollen from trees still so recently turned green— not yet browned and burnished by the summer’s (f)ire.

It’s a moment when time stops.

A moment when the world freezes to the pavement in a crystalline instant of gilded glory.

It’s the moment that captures you forever and is gone before you’ve known it, slipping past one second’s tick and into another’s tock.

It’s the moment when you feel the eye of the universe resting, just this once, upon a totally normal city block, on a totally normal day, at 6:27 o’clock.