1827 days

In the 1827 times of sunset, how many times did I really see into my eyes the mandarin orange sun suspending in the air?

It never takes long to sink behind the skyline, behind the roof and behind the day. It never counts, but we human count it as a day.

Days by days, sunrise and sunset like the ups and downs of my own pathway. Still, it keeps going and I keep going.

At first it was counted like an extended trip but later it was realized as part of a life-long trip. It may end some day, it may never end.

We have choices in life, but we do not choose life.

No one knows when it will be the last sunset and I do not know when will be my last time to see such a beautiful ending of the day in my days.

How much smile do I have in these 1827 days?