Earth rolls me away from the sun and night, the shadow sunlight casts with the planet, deepens the blue of the sky until it is almost black, so close to black that, like with two single dress socks that might comprise a matching pair, you give up trying to tell the difference. Night creatures feel the respite from the heat that had been so unrelenting in the day and begin to stir in the cool darkling air, energized with empowering anonymity. And the people feel it too, new excitement jittering in their nerves as they brush against one another, mingling in the crowded sidewalk bar under the deepening dusk, the waking of the stars. It’s cool this evening, a vanishing blessing that, in a few weeks, will be gone. The city will swelter even at midnight, even just before dawn, no relief until the brief autumn arrives late. Even in those hot months, evening has a kind of magic, sweaty though it be. Here, on the dark side of the earth, we fight off sleep and try, yawning, to stretch the evening out, to enjoy as much of it as possible. This is how I am, anyway. This is how we feel, dusky people, night people. If I could be another kind of animal, I would be nocturnal. My big, wide eyes would dilate to see as deeply into the peaceful gloom as possible. I’d move silent as a spirit through the shadows, watching the lights wink out in windows all over town.
Hello, friends. I trust you’re well.
Later. Love.
