Wonderful Times

The early mornings are wonderful times. Fresh, sweet, crisp, the very air itself is delicious with scents, such promises the mornings hold. The near-magical sanctity of the quiet that pervades the dawn lingers on in the silent smiles that people share.

In the afternoon, the day becomes languid, and tempts you into all manner of places; that shady spot on the grass, that dancing patch of gold beneath the boughs of a tree. It almost becomes thick with apathy, such is it's demands that you be dozing, lightly resting your eyes, that the world becomes a droning, and thoughts swim laboriously through the drowsy fog.

When darkness falls, the world becomes even brighter. Senses are heightened as the world is thrown into sharp relief, and the crass and tired sense that is sight gives way to the intense ardor that is the other four. And so beguiled by the seductive mystery that flows into the corners untouched by moonlight I breathe in deeply the bewitching air...And choke, on car exhaust.

Ah, the city.