And as I tried to steer my children straight, and keep them safe in the car-park while wandering in awe, I could hear other people, strangers I didn't know, gasping, standing still on crossings - mobiles in hand capturing the magic.
Then we climbed into our less than glorious car and drove home, glimpsing the sunset reflection in rear-view mirrors, craning our necks to watch it, and seeing other people - in cars, on the foot path, peering out bus windows - to marvel as they saw.
Later, after the sun had set and the kids were prepping for bed, I logged online. There I found more evidence of how this one particular sunset had stopped us all in our tracks no matter where we were scattered over this sprawling and sometimes ugly city.
And it felt like we were, finally, a humanity in awe of something magical. Something more vast, more powerful and more beautiful than any of us could capture or articulate - and something absolutely none of us had a hand in creating.
And I'm wondering if this is what it might feel like one day, when Jesus finally returns and we are all brought to our knees in awesome wonder no matter who we are or what our story or what we might have been.