Everyone who knows me even remotely gets the idea that I might be a little bit of a night creature. Early mornings and sunny days are not for me. Forget holidays on the beach, frying your precious skin in the deadly rays of sun. Well, I can enjoy the beach, but mostly for the presence of the sea. I always long for water. I don't know if the preference for the night is a consequence of a strong habit formed in adolescence or just a natural tendency. Is Night Owl really a thing or just an unhealthy result of exposure to artificial light and screens of all sorts? Aren't we naturally supposed to follow the rhythm of the sun? Since I can remember I was always more creatively inclined after 6 pm. During the day I could be physically active or resolve some logical issues but the highest moments of inspiration would come late at night. When I was a teenager, my dad would spark drunk arguments in the night and sometimes I would wait for him to pass out so I can continue with my homework. That definitely influenced my rhythm - morning classes were a nightmare and I would skip or sleep through most of them.
I had moments when I would be waking up very early for a short period of time but then eventually I give myself up to the night. Ridiculously early mornings can be beautiful and refreshing, the stillness before everyone wakes up is soothing and magical. They are quite rare for me, however, unless it's a sleepless night that transforms into dawn.
I think it has a lot to do with a huge need for silence. I am easily distracted by noises. And everything, really. I love being enveloped by night when the senses are heightened and the subconscious speaks clearly. That's when the best ideas happen. Sometimes to the point of exhaustion. That's when I can express myself most fully, when everything seems possible. I try to grasp the essence of these moments, cause I know that upon waking these feeling will be nothing but a fading memory.
Walking the city streets at night makes me feel like a mysterious creature out of this world. I often imagine that I know more about the nature of reality than the common mortals and I'm the happiest and the most powerful in the dark. Streets, usually bustling with life, are deserted and still. What mysteries does the city hide? What stories of romance and murder? What is happening behind all these close doors and who are these other people that, like me, cannot sleep? What tales will we write before the first signs of dawn appear and we stroll back to our shelters, seeking rest? Magical, magical city by night.
Until next time,