Three years ago I wrote a text describing a beautiful sunset, it was this afternoon in Ko Lanta and the highest point of the Pimalai Resort that brought back the memory of each word written before:
It's six thirty-four minutes. The afternoon expresses itself with a sky that captivates the look, my mind stops completely when observing it, there are no more murmurs, there are no more questions. My attention contemplates the horizon through my eyes. It is not a common sky of celestial tones, today it comes in the company of a range of tonalities that I assure can never be represented on a canvas, this nor with the best gradients from blue to pink. I know that Monet saw that same sunset that afternoon in 1912 in Venice, but the colors on his palette were not enough to represent him; I felt like he must have felt, amazed by the ephemeral.