The hallway at dusk

A calm reflection on light, time, and the quiet spaces between day and night.

The hallway carried a kind of twilight silence — the kind that settles only when day forgets to breathe. Faint light traced along the walls, gliding across framed art and polished stone. Somewhere, a clock ticked, steady and patient. The air felt suspended, as if the house itself were listening to time. In that quiet corridor, architecture met memory again — not through sound or color, but through the slow fading of light.