Try to turn the sun into a lump, you can’t. It’s wrapped around the sky, wrapped around what appears to be a pale blue dot, pierced by light. A skewer of chaos finally cooling down after all this time, relic of blue order from the formerly violent night. Every day’s a little bit shorter, wind a notch stronger, wings beating a little harder to maintain an airborne demeanour, but you don’t notice. Your shoulders drop because it doesn’t matter what the difference between light and shadow is, as long as there is one.