Why are sunsets breathtaking? I don’t know. People love to watch the sunset, I don’t know why… Maybe, because it is the only time they can stare directly into the sun without damaging their eyes? Or maybe because there is some residue of ancient Aztec spirituality still floating in the air?
In Key West, if you go to Mallory Square in the late afternoon, the golden hour, you will see crowds of tourists facing west. For them, watching the sunset is no longer enough, they all try to record it. It’s number one thing to do when you visit Key West: go to the Sunset Celebration at Mallory Square. They all take out photo cameras, i-phones, i-pads, and all sorts of other devices, trying to capture the soul of the supreme deity of the skies. And post it on Facebook two minutes later. To prove they have been there, done that.
I, myself, like to turn my camera towards the people photographing sunsets. I photograph miniature sunsets inside their sunglasses. And capture their souls.
He knows it is performance time.
People are watching with anxiety.
There he comes: perfectly orange and round, ready to dive in the ocean.
He prepares slowly, gets closer and closer.
Timing is everything.
The lights in the theatre dim, the audience stops breathing.
Corsets burst, children faint: it is all going to happen at the exact precise moment, not a minute earlier, never later.
Another death, another disappearance.
Painfully, first he touches the line, and then she swallows him.
The horizon stretches its back a bit higher: impatient, hungry.
He is doomed again, and the voyeurs are silent: photographing the evidence, a ritual, another sacrifice for the crowds.
Did you see him how he went down?
Did you see how she swallowed him, slowly?
The sky, the sea all gets smeared in blood.
And then the spectacle is over.
Ovations, satisfaction, the men look at the women with wet eyes: you see, exactly as I predicted,
I kept my promise.