I throw the day away; out the window it goes. The Night comes in slowly, like a shy stranger, stepping quietly, afraid to make herself known. But, there’s no hiding who she is, or how far she can reach, or the power her hands hold to turn everything off, including dreams. Dreams of company, of compassion, of difference. The Night comes in, and we attempt to escape her, dreaming ourselves into glistening lands, filled with light and cheer. Seeking refuge is futile; almost as i

Time has always preoccupied me. Not in a bad way, but it's always in the back of my mind. How does time work? Is it only a human construct? But it moves for everybody and everything: pets, plants, fruits, water. Is it a type of movement? Is it space in action? Does it exist in a continuum, linear manner or in a circular pattern? Does it exist all at once, never passing, or does it only exist once and once a moment passes, it's gone forever? Here's a little exercise on thinkin