The sun began its slow descent over the Wadden Sea like a bleeding orb of orange. The sky was not merely darkening; it was undergoing an alchemy of colour. The fierce blue of day had given way to a wash of saffron and rose madder near the horizon, bleeding upwards into a deep shade of lavender. Directly above lingered a profound, cloudless aquamarine… the last defiant vestige of daylight.
This celestial canvas was mirrored with a softer, more liquid fidelity across the flat expanse of the Wadden Sea. The water formed a mosaic of shimmering tidal pools and winding channels, reflecting the sky not as a single image at low tide but as a thousand fragmented pieces like a shattered mirror of hammered gold and polished amethyst.
In the distance, the dark shapes of the islands… Fanø and Mandø were no more than smudges of charcoal on the glowing rim of the world, like secrets half-told.
