It’s always lovelier to walk around at night
It’s always lovelier to walk around at night. She is slightly different from her more cacophonic, harsh twin. Everything is asleep, in their beds of cotton clouds and moonlit dew, but everyone is awake. Jackals roam the bushes and the open, winter fields, breathing in those white flowers blooming under the eclipsing darkness, holding passers-by in their sweet-smelling dream. You go up the sloping road, with oak and eucalyptus looming high above, ancient giants who have something to say when all mimic the dead, and you have the peace to listen to the numbing, ice winds. Listen. Walk to the heart of the dying grass and lie underneath the stars. Look at Orion and Sagittarius, the Big Dipper and Scorpio, they have stories to play out. The same stars we, of the same dust as our ancestors and the greats, have the pleasure of witnessing. Listen to the silence. Everything sle...