Stumbling downhill, I turn the corner and skip the street I took on the way up. No, Montezuma, not today. Instead, I turn and point myself vaguely, trying to capture both northwards and downhill in a single direction.

Mirabel street. The signboard is ornamental.

Mirabel. The name rings a bell. Was there a Mirabel in Berkeley hills? Ooh yes perhaps. The Mirabel Path, I believe it’s called. A small stairway nestled in the hills. A breeze makes me draw in a heady mix of eucalyptus, pine and dry wood and I am suddenly seized with the idea that somehow, if I put my mind to it, I could get from this Mirabel to the other. The latter - well, only 20 miles northeast and across a body of water but in some strange mix of wormholes, magic and Harry Potter, it suddenly seems possible. The fog starts settling in a bit now.

Meanwhile, on this Mirabel, the path ahead beckons and I walk right into it. How wonderful would it be if this path didn’t exist otherwise. Perhaps it appeared during the brief glimpse of dusk - a witching hour by all merit, but a pleasantly bewitching one.

As the path winds on, everyday objects that appear on the way seem somehow transformed. A house with the sun-with-a-face, lurking in a dark garden. The sun looks like the icon of the sun used in old calendars. Another garden, and a tiny picnic table, like for gnomes. Children, more likely, but at this hour it could have been for pixies for all I care. High above shines a window with a little old lady behind it.

And every now and then a jasmine bush. Of course. Summer.

Just as quickly, the bright, familiar lights of the corner shop come into view and the fog lifts. The road suddenly starts looking pedestrian, there’s dog shit and dried leaves.

Almost dreading that I’d wake up now, I look back. And just as waking up from a dream, the path I’ve taken downhill now looks foggy and vague and seems to have been drawn partly in my head.

Have I been dreaming? Surely not, for eighteen minutes of solid ground lie between me and the cozy confines of home.

What, then, is dusk?