Anyone who has travelled with me knows just how much I love a sunset. As the last rays of light drop over the horizon I’m stopped in my tracks. I often feel compelled to stand still and savour it. Copenhagen was no exception.
I partly blame my mum for the end of each day dumping me into a catatonic state: Every day on the way to school she would quote a poem by Thomas Carlyle: ‘Today’. As a grumpy teenager I always saw it as a vain attempt to guilt me into working harder in class. However as I’ve got older I’ve come to love his words:
Out of Eternity
This new Day is born;
At night, will return.
And so I consider myself an expert in sunsets. From the flash of green before the sun drops into a tropical ocean to the slow wintry transition to mauve over a British town, I’ve ogled quite a few. Despite this, Copenhagen didn’t disappoint. In fact, it was so lovely at dusk that I started planning my days around where I could be to get the best seat.
And so it was that I found myself at the top of a precarious church spire. One second, the dazzling orange appeared to melt like a watercolour into the dark buildings below. The next, the exact silhouettes of the city’s skyline sat black and neat against their backdrop.
On other days the sunset gave off a paler glow, gradually blanching to almost white before an instant dusk settled. Regardless, I still asked myself the question at the end of Thomas Carlyle’s famous poem:
Here hath been dawning
Another blue Day:
Think wilt thou let it
Slip useless away.