the end of a Pagan day

The gentle light of evening embraces the crumbling red mud bricks of these wonderous temples. Vegetation takes root within soft mortar. The once sharp corners are softening, like a cake left out in the rain, as the structures melt over centuries back into the dusty plains from whence they came, their fantastic forms imperceptibly losing definition as Nature claims back her own and reworks them to her liking. It becomes harder to define man's fantasies from nature's own work.
The shadows are lengthening and the air is getting chilly. I'm feeling really hungry too. Those oranges were hardly enough for a whole day's outing. Its high time to head home. The unique shape of each ruin has enticed me to explore further afield than intended. I've walked for miles through this valley today and boy, that hard rattan bed is sure gonna feel good tonight.
Hey, that bullock cart seems to be going in my direction. I think I'll wave to the driver... Yes! a ride back home. Oh perfect day.