People always talk about sunrises and sunsets, seeing these respectively as the beginning and the ending of a day. Yet what we often forget is to think about the moon, for it rises and sets just like its counterpart, signalling the beginning and ending of something equally beautiful – the night.
I had not thought about the moon this way until I rode a horse in the valleys of Cappadocia, as the rocks concealed the sun, leaving only a faint emberly glow in the distance, whilst on the other side the moon rose, bright and round as ever, bringing with it a cool shade of blue sky.
The golden hour was coming to an end with the blue hour advancing quickly, eager to take over the sky which had been ruled but the sun all day – it was time for the moon to reign.
Hazal, the horse I rode, took confident strides away from the sun which seemed to be her natural environment given her glossy ginger coat, preferring perhaps the cool promise of shade the moon could provide. Even the dogs, which before had been loud and energetic whilst out in the sun, seemed to quiet down once they entered the darker, shadowy realm of the night.
I think they understood that this was when the magic could really happen, when the fairy-chimneys could finally become once more the living quarters of supernatural creatures like pixies and fairies and dwarves.
It felt like I was crossing the boundary between day and night, the real and the unreal, the obvious and the hidden.