Evenings are so magical. I love the serenity in it. It was therapeutical to be out in the terrace this evening. The sun had almost gone down but there was still light. When I peeped down to the pond, I suddenly felt a kind of Diana Wynne Jones’s kind of magic in the air. This correlation came about because I am reading one of her semi-autobiographical book, Reflections. Nevertheless, the air certainly teemed with the magic of – cool pre-summer air, the moor hens grazing in the pond, thr insects chorus starting off, the leaves rustling in the trees, the beautiful red, hanging flowers of bottle brush waving in the wind, the canna lily by the pond as fiery red as the sunset, the silhouette birds in the sky flying towards their home, the velvety feeling of happiness of experiencing it all. If all this is not magic, then there is no magic at all.