i don’t understand why i can’t sleep. maybe, to me, midnight is when the city pretending to be quiet somehow stops trying. when everyone stops talking and without knowing begin to listen.
imagine a city being the first star you saw, maybe you knew their vital burning kept you alive, but, somehow they were still romantic. romantic enough to be wishes, dreams, and a simple gift from the gods. whom you barely knew, but loved more than ever.
i feel this when i look out of a midnight window, out over a sleeping city it's chest rising and falling together. disturbed only by the moonlight walker and his collie dog chester, or the seldom turn signal, and leafy flutter of autumn. to me this is the city.
midnight is the hour, and sleep can wait.