On the subject of beginnings lets take it back to basics, to the classic dualism of day and night and the twilight times inbetween, full of magic.
There is so much to say about night and day, the expectations and fears of both, intricately woven into the fabric of everything we know.
I used to so love the night and the seductive anticipation of the sunset. The dark and illicit, the eternally youthful rush of hedonistic pleasure, where danger is welcomed but death scorned as a distant enemy.
More recently I have begun to appreciate mornings and the dawn more keenly. There is something incredibly hopeful about witnessing the fragility of a newborn morning.
There is a fantastic poem by Jorge Luis Borges which has an interesting perspective on the matter, i would like to quote directly but unfortunately many of my books are on another continent from me at the moment. The poem mentions the ideas of Schopenhauer and Berkeley that the world is a collective dream of souls conjured solely by those experiencing it, so that at the instant of daybreak when the people able to perform this act of magic are fewest, is the time when the world is at its most delicate.
Well you know what they say about pictures and words, so here's a couple of twilight shots from places I've been for you to make up your own mind about.
Seven Oaks, Ontario
Tofino, British Columbia
Hackney, London