I'm in a mood.

I figure I'll just write through it.

There are cities that do not sleep. Mine is not one of them. This one sleeps soundly under a blanket of light rain.

Wandering through streets that gleam, shiny and slick, brings an ethereal feeling, like you've stumbled into someone else's dream.

These are the cool, pleasant, nights where I don't want the world to wake up. I wonder if this feeling is similar to parents, whose little ones have run and jumped and skipped and sang all day and have finally succumbed to a nap.

The quiet is alien, but slowly returns to being familiar and welcome. A brief respite from distraction. Some time now to whisper thoughts and watch them float hesitantly about. Where words are chosen with more consideration for the silence they might shatter.

Where the sunrise comes like a wailing cry for attention. The whispered thoughts retreat, dart back into your head. They yield to "Oh yeah, there is a world out there, one that I will have to deal with at some point."

And could you banish all the clocks, the sun would still busy itself with the casting of shadows to pass the time.

Time stands still on a moonless night.

An online quiz challenged me to describe myself in one word. "Stubborn?" "Easy-going?" "Lackadaisical?" "Lively?" I forget what I chose, but at some point my mind flap-jacked and I thought of another word that could describe me.

"Frustrating."

This is not how I would describe myself. I seldom frustrate myself (unless I'm trying to kid myself,) but I think that I cause frustration in others.

Just a thought.

I still haven't unpacked any more boxes. At the moment, that is still are they are.

Boxes.

They are not full of all my belongings. They are full of all my nothing, my empire of dirt.

Contents of a dead man's pockets.

Folds up, for easy storage.

My tattoo is itching madly.

I dreamt that we were being lined up and carted away. Some of you were lined up, watching, shaking your heads, discussing with one another in disapproving tones of how cruelly our captors were treating us. I jumped up and shouted and waved to get your attentions, to say goodbye. I was struck down before any of you saw me. I was not angry. I was glad I had fought, as I surely would have been glad had I not.

I am still in a mood.

I figure I'll just sleep through it.