It's 3:30 AM and the newspaper just hit the door. The birds are starting to wake one another taking note of locations. The city is asleep.
This is a strange time.
If you walk the streets there is no one around. A few porch lights speckle the darkness. It is eerily quiet. The rows of mobile machines sit quietly next to the cement curb. Each one filled with highly flammable liquid like silent metal bombs balanced on rubber.
This is the time when dreams turn into reality. Thoughts of the past days experience and future days adventures blend. Wiping away too many details and confusing the plans.
A quiet time of retrospect or space in the millennium to organize the mind's intentions.
This morning's thoughts were about emotions. Those inner feelings that can change a logical person into a pile of mush.
I worked in a field where the story was to find an emotion that would trigger consumption. Laughter, joy, anger, fear and greed could and if presently correctly provide the emotion with the desire to covet an idea or item and demand the possession of it.
Emotions were not prevalent in my family, so perhaps that is why I could touch on others. I still find it amazing to see a picture or hear a phrase which will quell up a lump in the throat.
I was lucky enough to rediscover the feelings I missed when I was a teenager. I'm sure I felt them then, but put them aside or forgot. The utter jubilation making the entire day appear light and happy. The shear depth of depression creating physical pain and despair. And being of a rational mind, understanding the emotion and studying it's reaction on me.
It's now 4:00 AM, so I will try to go back into the darkness and toss and turn some more until the rest of the birds deliver the light.
A fly is still in the kitchen. He probably came in while the doors were open yesterday and is seeking a way out. He buzzes up to the florescent tube lighting the window, pounding the glass trying to escape, while overhead a spider waits......patiently.