The clock ticked past 1am some time ago. It’s already Thursday morning. I’m playing the age old game of avoiding tomorrow while music quietly plays in the dark of the junk room. There is an empty wine glass alongside the keyboard – it held the remains of a bottle we opened several nights ago.
A line from a book comes to mind – “night is the hardest time to be alive, and 4am knows all my secrets”.
There’s something about the night. Perhaps after our brain has been busy all day, it begins to unwrap increasingly disconnected content as the hours progress – mashing it together and forging new insights, thoughts, hopes, and fears.
It’s late. I have work in the morning. I need to let my brain off it’s leash for the next several hours. Let it dream, before presenting it with breakfast, washing up, email, and conference calls.