For a month or two in a year, the sun decides to wake up right in front of my window to kiss the sky with its red lips. You almost dream of warriors and big battles at the sight, with dragons spitting fire and bearded men unsheathing their mighty swords — if you’re careful, you can actually hear Beowulf’s cry for arms, with Grendel daring him to attack. Still, peace comes quickly, and whatever legends have unfolded just a few moments ago subside, and more mundane scenes will come to life: a girl trying to catch her bus to downtown, two people arguing, one businessman consulting his watch and worrying about the tribulations of the day. All’s clear now, at least until tomorrow…