Up early this morning, before the dawn, and unable to get back to sleep. By inclination I’m a night person. On weekends I sleep in late, sometimes into the afternoon. Today I was to bed early and up early as well. And the dawn was beautiful.
I’ve often thought that an essay or book in praise of the dark would be interesting to write. Most of the synonyms and connotations of the dark are bad, but to me the night seems like the best time of the day. The rest of the world is usually quiet. The hubbub of the daytime senses is muted, edges are softened. Some things are hidden and others are revealed. I wonder if people who appreciate the night have any less fear of the unknown than average. Those who align light with the truth may be correct but the interesting times of my life are when I’m able to look into the unknown, when I have a problem or idea to unravel.
One of the best parts of the night is waiting for the dawn. I remember walking the streets of New Haven after an all-nighter or two in college. I’d be going out to breakfast, usually after a night of intense concentration on a paper, and everything truly did look impressive.
