5 am. Still awake. The silent house feels empty, deserted. I feel more rested than I’ve been in weeks. 5 am and it’s too early to start my day, yet too late to get some rest.
This is my favorite hour of the day, not morning nor night, but somewhere in between, just like I am, always. Florence’s sky is raining and the sound gives me the chills, or maybe the guy who is standing in the rain, whistling outside my window. After a sleepless night, after submitting all my work, I watch the screen and ask myself how can I love sleeping so much when in fact, in times like this I hate it. There is a certain beauty that one can find in the silent of the night (leaving aside the guy that whistles), a beauty that from my point of view can never be replaced with the comfort of sleep. There is a certain beauty in saluting a day that has not yet begun for others, who never witnessed this in between feeling of it.
Time. Sleep. Night. Day. All words that at this hour, stand still and loose their meaning. You can immerse yourself into deep, unexplored corners of your mind which you never knew existed, all because of these words, all because of their non existence. And so, after having this much desired moment, after greeting a new week, my body will surrender and allow itself to rest a humanly rest.
P.S. The whistling guy is really annoying. How can one emit deep thoughts at 5 am with someone whistling away the silence. Grrrr… 🙂
