Looking down the street is shades of grey to black with small points of light and blurred reflection on the wet asphault. Mine and alone, the two lanes divided bordered with sidewalks cease to be a passage for daily motion of anonymous faces, my outside home. It takes a special hour for the city to feel deserted, the changes from day to dark in this small town are dramatic. There is no reason for me to be the only one living in this city, though I am. Each step is for soothing clear and deeper, the complex tangled weight of day to day life lifts off in layers until simply drinking the surroundings swallows all thought. Riding on my bike creaking below me, fingers going cold numb, it would be so nice to share but that would break the feeling. When alone feels perfect, intimate integration with the dark world moving past, it would be possible to dictate any change to reality at will now...yet it is already so very just right.