My friend,
It is the magic hour of the night. In this moment of deep night before the dawn, time itself has tucked under the covers and curled up under the stalwart trees to rest. The stars have stripped the numbers from the clock, and the moon casts a moment of infinity over the land: we have no time in the daylight hours, but come nightfall the world is open to impossibility. It is here in these moments that past and present hold hands and paradoxically are one. The daylight may show those lines for what they are, but at night we can be both child and adult, wild and sombre, cold and full of all the warmth life has to offer.
Even now the dawn drifts close, and the last moments of this infinity are drawing near, but in a little while the day will die in gradients of gold and blue, and even the grass will hold secrets tight and close in its shadows.
Until then,
A
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