And in the night we'll wish this never ends, we'll wish this never ends.

It is now late and I'm still up - not in the conventional way that I am awake for when those nights wore on and where my fingers wore down, being awake was the only option if one ever intended to get anything completed. Today, being awake only serves the purpose of savouring this rare solitude for in these nights the houses are quiet and the children are children once more, not wanting any more, and not needing any less than love and dreams.

I fear that if I allow myself to sleep now, morning will come too quickly, stealing away the starry starry night that Van Gogh once imagined, that we once talked about because all we wanted to do was to talk even if for a while, and even if of nothing at all.

.