![IMG_20230427_065102217.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/chris-chris92/Eonj1eSNeSNM6m2VA3GgyE1h6nBvMoLw87xdkgH7nvVZzi5J7j6yoQoSxcXgEXkUNpt.jpg)

*<P><div class="text-justify">Yesterday, I went out without thinking much—just to walk. It wasn’t about the scenery or the need for fresh air. It was something lighter: the way the afternoon began to burn the pavement with that yellow tone that isn’t just light, but a kind of heat that seeps into your bones. A heat that doesn’t scorch but carries weight. As if spring, about to flicker out, had left one last blaze across the walls, the wires, the quiet glass of windows.</div></P>*

*<P><div class="text-justify">I walked through familiar streets, though yesterday they felt newly born. The sky held a deep yellow, almost ochre, that you can’t quite name but can definitely feel. And it wasn’t that everything was warm—though it was—it’s that everything felt wrapped in a solar blanket that didn’t burn but gently pressed against you. The sun wasn’t high, but it ruled the sky like it didn’t want to leave without being looked at directly, at least once.</div></P>*


![IMG_20230913_171911416.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/chris-chris92/23uFMbpjAhoVma5fTLBVQx5Y32eaV4DCmVJPkfNjk1nTa4FkiPrsAvnxBhcJ12N3fXDeG.jpg)

![IMG_20230913_174842498.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/chris-chris92/23zGY85g1DAqppxLKL5J67Z5M4QzGgd9LdusLw72tHQULgyoBMNgJ7WSugs1Y92Rg7Je1.jpg)

![IMG_20230913_175116349.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/chris-chris92/23xAPgafBEmPu5KZdaoKLmaXDBhknCPdmpniYrjmNPvp6vFfobmQqyp7maUzWDanACe2X.jpg)


*<P><div class="text-justify">That kind of heat makes you think small thoughts. Or not small—just quiet ones. As if the world became more intimate when the light turns like that, when shadows aren’t black but soft brown, and the walls seem to whisper that summer is already peeking around the corner. It wasn’t ordinary heat. It was the kind that makes you close your eyes for a second and silently tell yourself: this too is living.</div></P>*

*<P><div class="text-justify">I stopped more than once—not to rest, but to hold onto what my eyes knew they’d soon forget: that yellow that doesn’t exist in any palette, the kind you only see on afternoons that don’t return. I took pictures, yes, but not out of the urge to keep something. It was more that the light itself seemed to want to be remembered, even if it didn’t know why.</div></P>*


![IMG_20230505_055523838.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/chris-chris92/Eobzi3CWVGfm6oBqoNx7kZAi7qcLuWCdK7ERtsng1UAjovT4Qvb1vNtbpQQ8cbmPBrq.jpg)

![LRM_20230822_061558.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/chris-chris92/23xVP9eQ4FqifRDRCYLD65ToWqWBLGVunr63dBrwzyejNuvennfkAr2QH18QsT4Nwcqz2.jpg)

![IMG_20230930_115651147.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/chris-chris92/Eow9m8cGF2cqAzLVsytvfqQT8qH1fErWt2RWmbwwg3d8PTtsuAoJcEiuDthNunyA7g4.jpg)

![IMG_20230921_075528342.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/chris-chris92/Eou9CFbTBnyExnPGvUCcSCjhSBz4Ce2hvXJduTSSRzxWY9m36mwLVmgzcXHeryWRqrz.jpg)


*<P><div class="text-justify">And now that I think of it, nothing really happened. There’s no story. Just a walk, a heat that spoke, a corner with a tree that looked like it was on fire without flames. But sometimes, that’s enough: a yellow afternoon that isn’t a metaphor, just a fact. An afternoon that knew summer was coming, even if it hadn’t arrived yet.</div></P>*

![untitled.gif](https://media.tenor.com/6l3QSARL69AAAAAC/cat-kitten.gif)

***<center>All photographs and content used in this post are my own. Therefore, they have been used under my permission and are my property.</center>***