Peering over a bridge in Seoul’s busy southside district, I catch the fiery ball of light in between a pair of uneven skyscrapers.

My mind settles for a few seconds on the display of warmth and radiance, the water reflecting the glow of the sun and the shadows of the buildings, one formed over billions of years, the other over tens of months.

I am thinking all this now of course, for in the moment I am not thinking anything. I am affected by the sight before me, the sounds of seagulls beneath the bridge, the traffic behind me, and the voices echoing all around me.

I am pausing on this bridge to capture this scene, but also because I had practically walked from one side of Seoul to the other, exhausting my legs.

I have the frequent habit of walking miles and miles in a new city rather than opting for a rental car, uber, or even transit.

The result is a plethora of snapshots in time, only available to me at the snail’s pace of a walk. Sometimes it is boring, but most times it is beautiful.

Outside the frame, I continue to walk just as the sun continues to set. It is dusk by the time I meet my friend Randy on a slopped, grassy hill with a hug.

We watch as a light show begins underneath the bridge. Water pours out from about 50 pipes embedded under the bridge as multicolored lighting attached and facing down reflects off the water. An orchestral soundtrack plays on speakers above the lights as the water flows in a beautifully designed show.

The show ends with the last of the sun’s light fades and the night begins, a transition we rarely contemplate.

We catch a bus ride back up and into the now glowing city and I peer out once more to where the warmth once was.