A bright, burning beast of fire stretches across the sky, emanating from a vastly, cosmic arrangement of oranges, reds, and yellows that glow from a golden, spherical mass. My skin is starting to burn as it always does. I am pale, freckled, and vulnerable to the sun and its fiery ambitions. Nevertheless, though I am both a porcelain and fragile child, I love the sun during this hour—the searing sphere about to go down as the cold, ceramic moon radiates from the corner of the sky. But like a fire about to burn out, its ambers will still brightly erupt right at the very end; like a flash of its truest form, bursting until it disappears into the night sky.