Hassig

I like night. I always have. The night time has always felt peace­ful. It has a ten­dency to be much qui­eter. My aunts and uncles are no longer call­ing the house ask­ing for my par­ents. The calls from solic­i­tors cease, and fewer cars travel the roads. Every­thing about it whis­pers a quiet, serene story that does not seem to care whether it is heard. The dark­ness drapes the land­scape and all things bright­ened by the harsh day­light. Things that were once clear and easy to see are hid­den by a shroud of black, occa­sion­ally high­lighted by moon­light or harshly brought to sight by our man made lights. For some rea­son, this lim­ited vision and lack of abil­ity to see into this dis­tance brings peace. What is strange is how dark­ness lim­its what we can see around us, but it is the only time we can see into the cos­mos, places far beyond our world. The light retreats to rest for the evening and dark­ness quickly fills it’s gap. It drapes every­thing and pro­vides the oppor­tu­nity to look up to a world the light hides so crassly as if the sun is afraid we will cheat on her with other stars and novas.