It was a fairly quiet night, there was a nip in the air, after all the winter is prepping for it’s grand arrival. I could hear the cars gushing through the distant deserted roads. Standing on my balcony, I felt the chilly 2 am breeze in my hair… up above, the pitch dark sky flaunting a beautiful lone star. What could otherwise be a scary part of the night felt surprisingly comforting. That moment, that very moment felt just so perfect. So real and pure.
Yes, I’m a sucker for the after 2 am calm, the world seems like a better place at this hour. I can bring out the vulnerable, tired me without the fear of being judged or ignored or hurt or whatever. And this leaves me wondering what is so special about the after dark. Is it just the lingering after taste of Murakami’s After Dark that I just finished reading? Or is this yet another quest for seeking the unknown, feeling the unfelt, missing the non-existent?
I’d be lying if I said, I will be able to figure it out with time. Maybe this is not to be figured, maybe this quest is supposed to be never ending.
Like Murakami says, time moves in it special way in the middle of the night. My favorite part of this hour is the midnight sky.
sindulgence 