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There are two nights. The one we move around in, and the one which we imagine. The choices in the first are few. We can move as the compass allows us, and determinedly wait until we punch through the darkness to some destination.
Ah, but the second night of our mind – there the choices are infinite. We can change everything but the darkness which defines night. But even though we swim through it, we can populate it with whatever . Any turn, any form, any smell, sound, feeling… It’s as if our hands can knead it to be sinister, romantic, inviting, compelling, or a place to shut down and sleep.
I like that second night best. Daylight seems more thoughtful or intellectual, while nighttime pulls out feelings that can expand as far as the darkness goes. And darkness swells on into the cosmos.
Night is a canvas that we paint with light. Night is much larger than day. And maybe that’s why the creepy-sense tingles then. Night seems to reduce us. And it’s only recently in human history that we’ve conquered small pieces of it.