Rage, rage against the dying of the light

In this grey, dark November (go to work in the dark, come home in the dark), I have learned that that the light isn't actually dying (although it feels like it), but that those millisecond photographic moments are so much rarer and interspersed with so many grey, dark non-photographic milliseconds.

You wait for ages for a seagull and then one comes along at once. Although the setting sun is the focal point of this image, I wanted another one to add depth. A gull flew through the frame but I missed it, so I waited, hunched, getting colder, for another. And waited. And waited. Eventually the world's least in focus and most motion blurred gull flew through the frame.


Are we still the good guys?
Yes. We're still the good guys.
Because we're carrying the fire?