Monday, October 24, 2016


It's the best time of the day.
It's the precipice between night and day.
The fulcrum.
The tipping point.
3 minutes later: very early morning.
2 minutes earlier: very late night.
Bars closed, bakeries still not open.
A day pregnant with possibilities.
Embers of the precious day lay cold.
It's magic, it's quiet, it rustles.
Drunks sing and curse.
Workers head home and in to early shifts.
Everything floats and sinks.
For a brief moment, the world floats.

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