I've been in love with the idea of "twilight" for quite some time now. It's kind of telling -- after all, I was the 8-year-old kid whose favorite song was Mariah Carey's rendition of "Without You." But I don't necessarily see twilight, or the "blue hour," as the beginning of the end of something. I see in it its own beauty, of having become something already and growing comfortable with it ... just with the expectation that it, too, will eventually be gone.

Here's some of my favorite writing on the idea of the "blue hour" or "twilight":

“What does it cost to lose those weeks, that light, the very nights in the year preferred over all others? Can you evade the dying of the brightness? Or do you evade only its warning? Where are you left if you miss the message the blue nights bring?”
― Joan Didion, "Blue Nights" 

"So it goes, though no one knows you like they used to do

Have a drink the sky is sinking toward a deeper blue

And you're still all right

Step out into twilight

So I stumble home at night

Like I've stumbled through my life

With ghosts and visions in my sight

We are always living in twilight"

― The Weepies, "Living in Twilight" 

“I lay on my mattress on the screen porch and waited for him to leave, watching the blue of the evening turn velvet, indigo lingering like an unspoken hope …”
― Janet Fitch, "White Oleander"