Golden Hour Photography - Sunset River

Somewhere in the world the sun had caught fire with a sudden thrill of love and with its heat had ignited a proud river. It was filled by numerous streams that poured their life-giving waters into it. They filled her with love and she felt full and big. This river spread wide and flowed heavy but swift, eager to join the vast sea. She thought he was hungry for sweetness and couldn't wait to quench his thirst. This river had no fatigue, it drank the sky to the last drop of rain. It wanted to overflow with water, lots and lots of water, to be powerful and constant. Thus she became an infinite water mirror, in which the sun, as soon as it looked, drowned in its own beauty. The river drank up the sun's rays and became colored in golden and scarlet colors. Everything was painted with magical colors and looked like a fairy tale.

Against the background of the fiery sunset, a lonely sandy island in the middle of the river enjoyed the company of various birds. They flew at will and stopped their flight on the wet sand. These birds were captivating. The river had parted slightly to make room for them. Their presence pleased not only the river, even the sky filled with trembling at the touch of their divine wings. The air was filled with cries of love and glowed with excitement. The sun itself caressed the birds with quick caresses scattered with the scorching rays. Everything seemed perfect. Such harmony was obtained only in this world, at this time and in this place. It is carefreeness, relaxation, deep rapture in the world of the illusion of wasted happiness. It can be felt, but to get it, you have to have wings. If you fly, then you are in love. If you land on this island, then you are a bird, and if the sun kisses you, then all is well. If the river cools you and the air brightens you, then you are a bird that has taken the magic sip of rainwater, infected with love. It may be only a moment, but this moment is simply wonderful.

A white seagull happened to look at the flock of crows that were keeping company on the island. They were quite noisy and communicated animatedly. She looked at them and noticed a raven striding proudly away from the flock. He slowly approached her. She also stepped lightly on the sand. She shouldn't have separated from her own, but something made her do it. He felt a strange tickling under his wings and so he spread them slightly as if he was trying to fly. But her feet stuck in the sand and her body felt heavy. Some strange curiosity drew her to the moment of the meeting with the black raven. The sun made him look quite special and alluring. His black wings had a kind of fiery tinge to them. The black bird spilled into a red-yellow mirage and, like a mystical euphoria, separated itself from the river landscape. It looked like a black raven flying over a volcano.

The two birds almost came close to each other. The silence fell suddenly and calmness reigned on the island. No one noticed the two birds' eagerness to look at the strange presence of magic.
The white seagull moved very gracefully and showed a gentle femininity. The raven walked boldly and went to impress her with gallant masculinity. Both birds were enjoying life and the wonderful weather. The sun saw them and scratched a golden track in the sand trough, caressing the accumulated water in it. The white seagull stopped and craned its neck to get a better look at the black raven. Her wings lightly touched the gilded water and she dipped her beak into the chute to swallow a drop of magic. He boldly approached and also very carefully sipped from the golden water that gently rippled in the sand trough. Then he raised his head and looked at the white bird. She stood before him in her dizzy purity, bathed in the last rays of the setting sun. She was perfect, white and on fire. The raven looked at her in awe, almost numb, as if an angel was standing before him. She looked into his black eyes and saw the sunset. This beauty was all he wanted to see. Curiosity had led her to the moment when the sun's rays, reflected in the raven's eyes, pierced her with an incomprehensible sensation. She felt ignited by fiery power and flapped her snowy wings. She even felt scared and just flew away. She was so confused that she didn't know which way to go. It flapped its wings and followed the red trail across the river, straight into the sun. He wanted to fly, but he didn't know where or why. He left himself to the light breeze and thus, with subtle movements, drew thoughts in the sky. These thoughts floated aimlessly, chaotically in the heated air. The raven caught them and they flowed into it along with the sun's heat. He became so hot that he flapped his wings heavily and flew after her. The raven followed the scent of love magic. She was there, near them, between them - in the trough of golden water. He drank and looked at the world with new eyes, with a new outlook. The white seagull fluttered so enticingly in the skies, and he confidently followed it. He had never felt so confident, and she had never felt so light and happy. She was guilty of the fact that she had gotten someone black other than herself to follow her. The magic remained on the sand, in the gutter - to burn. And then another moment came when all the birds around felt the thrill and flew powerfully towards the sun. The sky was filled with innumerable birds, and they all turned black, blinded by the light. Only the river remained to absorb their reflections and wait for the sun to completely merge with it.

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