San Rafael, Alajuela — January 10, 2025

A wide hilltop view at sunset, with the sun sitting low on the horizon and casting a band of orange-red light beneath layered gray clouds.

I spent the last of the light on a hilltop above San Rafael, sitting near the canvas peak of a tipi-style tent. The sun was already low, pressed into a narrow band of orange-red beneath a long ceiling of gray cloud. Forested ridges stepped away from me into the haze, each one a little paler than the last, until the farthest line was barely a suggestion. Power lines cut across the middle distance, three thin strokes that I kept trying to edit out with my eyes and then gave up on. Closer in, the vegetation was still green and loud, leaves catching what little color was left. I did not move for a while. There was no sound I can remember now, only that slow narrowing of light, the cloud closing the day like a lid. I have come to love this view, a sky deciding to be done. When the orange finally thinned to gray, I walked back to the houes, hands in my pockets, already a little colder than I expected.