The days often begin the same-
Sunrise, cock crows, dawn.
In reality, they’re exactly the same, just different faces and different things.
And the only difference becomes the nights.
Some made shorter by good sleep, active partners or just a heart at peace.
Others excruciatingly lengthened by thoughts that refuse to go to bed, hunger or just plain heat and mosquitoes.
Some others ever so pleasantly lengthened by wistful conversations that will later never seem to be able to be recreated.
Conversations in which one bares his soul shamelessly, albeit thoughtlessly; the darkness of the night like the reassuring warmth of brandy or a good therapist.
Late night arguments; broken whispers and room changes. Late night reconciliations; keen whispers and sleepy smiles. Late night scribblings; desperately honest. Born from deep within a person’s core.
Nights are magical. Some more than the others. Sometimes, they wield more power than we would expect.