Years ago, in Ibiza, a man I adore sighed as the sun sank in a voluptuous show of eccentric extravaganza (Ibiza sunsets love to show-off).

“One more day, one day less,” my man-friend said, albeit in French, which of course sounded far more elegantly melancholic.

I remember startling somewhat, never having clocked sunsets in this way, never associating them with my mortality.

“Yikes,” yapped a little thought, as the neurones in the anxious part of my brain released a horrified gasp. “The guy has a point!”

Tonight, many years after that sunset, I lie on my bed watching the sky try on a thousand different shades before settling on a perfect velvet-black, with one silver star, like a diamond brooch, sitting in the spot just above my bare poplar tree (Girona winter nights are effortlessly chic like that).

“One more day, one day less”, I think wistfully, (albeit in French, because it really does sound better), while grateful for having spent this one-more-day in comfort, surrounded by love.

Maybe some deep-thinking clever clogs spiked my coffee with a giant glug of Kumbaya earlier, but bear with me and imagine if everyone, everywhere, revered other people’s sunsets.

What if the finite nature of our sunsets was spelled out to us – literally - every evening, from the moment we are born?

 “Un jour de plus en moins…”

Might we find more reverence towards each other if this became our prayer?

Carpe Diem De Luxe. De Luxe, because each day is special to each one of us.

Whisper it, over and over.

Sunsets and Kumbaya, my friend. Believe it, feel it, be it.