The nighttime brings me peace. I guess for everybody, it, too, heralds a sense of calm. For most, it is a blanket of silence that sleep would kind of work itself into.
Generally, that's how nights work. Unless you do the nightshift or fly red-eye. This I dont live by. Im an insomniac, see. The empty streets awash with the soft glare of orange streetlighting; the silence and the noiseless humming that breaks it; it all murders me with guilt to not go out for a walk. And when is a better time to take a stroll than at night when the air is cool and cars go fast enough to be bothered with? Right, tonight.
Naturally anyone not used to being out at night, alone, would cower at this way of living. Do not get me wrong though: i love mornings too. But the night provides a different kind of light, i guess. But this is not living dangerously. Roaches are always foraging, hunting for dead meat and getting high on my fear.
Maybe it is the silence i cant get in the morning. I cannot get enough silence. Or the minimal bustle. As a borderline, self-proclaimed antisocial, this is borderline utopian, in a way. Or the lack of movement.
Maybe all three. Or maybe something else.
Probably because at night nothing is garish, the lines are much more straight, nothing is noise. Probably.
I like this time because it gives me much more time to think, with less distractions. This provides me with a space i create only for myself. And with this i try to get up and get ready to try and write again. And then be better to please myself.