I forgot how the sun sets in Cape Town. Slowly at first, the turquoise gradually morphing into a slathering of peaches and yellows and tangerines bleeding together like water colors over the majestic Atlantic ocean. And then, in the blink of an eye, someone lit a matchstick and set fire to the sky, the blaze travelling across the canvas of the sky, as if it was drenched in kerosene and left to burn. I’m at the Harbour now, watching as the sun dips below the horizon. With dusk reflecting off the water, it almost feels like I’m sitting in it, right in the middle; a room on fire with flames above and below me, swallowing me whole.