Rarities are what I live for. This morning I drove. My tires treaded the pavement in the early hours, passing underneath the Franklin Avenue bridge, the skyline was unveiled. The city hushed, eyelids closed in slumber. The normal glow of skyscrapers was dimmed for a few short hours of rest before the morning employees made their stand. It's an odd sight really. The steel is camouflaged against the blackened night sky, and you can only tell the buildings are there by subtle outlines. They tuck themselves in and curl up in the clouds and if you look closely, you can see their rhythmic breathing. Even now, the city is alive.

Continuing on, I made my way home knowing full well I too should be sleeping. When I turned onto 21st, I saw the college campus was dormant as the city. Even its students had now retreated into the arms of lovers, resting their heads on each others' chest, breathing together in sync. I had never felt so alone, nor so at peace. There were no distractions, no concerns, just a perfect quiet stillness... A bliss I haven't been graced with in entirely too long. It makes reminds me of the opening of one particular book... and in the words of Jon McGreggor, "...this is a pause worth savouring because the world will soon be complicated again."

Later days, and silence serene.