Riding the Sunset

Riding the Sunset

From great height the world looks very small. From great height the beauty is in the delicateness. The sun was beginning to set, casting a red glow over the city of London.
Looking down I can see the dying light reflecting off the great building’s windows. To my right the sloped roof of Canary Wharf is almost too bright to look at, blinding.
It is above me, but not by much.
My children are at school, my wife at work, they have no idea of the journey I’m going to go on. The meaning I am going to find in those few revelatory seconds.
I stepped forward into nothingness. I rode the sunset.