Sunday nights possess their own special magic. We savour those last few moments of daylight, wringing every drop of energy from the weekend. We linger later then we should. We postpone the inevitable - Monday morning. We rewind in our minds and press play, wanting to live it all again - if only for a moment in our head.
Sunday nights. Burning sunsets. Spontaneous moments of nothing become richer and brighter and more important simply because of their proximity to Sunday nights.
And after all that, comes the sad longing for everything we didn't do. For everything that must wait another week. For every second that drifts us closer to Monday.
It's a special kind of magic, Sunday night magic. An almost indescribable blend of glorious nostalgia and heartrending melancholy that no other day compares with.
That's what makes them so special.
kb xx