Night finds me awake… it has been this way for a long time… first it had been the tick-tock keeping me up… or so I had thought… the clock now lies buried under the weight of stifling obscurity of the dust of life in the uppermost shelf… it has been that way for a long time… some old calendar lies buried under the weight of timeless words inscribed in ephemeral pages… obscured, cured, relieved too… now there was only silence, the kind that night offers to little old towns, that ended up cornered by a highway to and from the world… night finds me awake… and when it’s not quite the night anymore, I go out… the Barbet looks at me suspiciously, hanging on to his tree, like I hang on to mine… my dear old tree of existential juices… and the little hollow where I nest… it has been this way for a long time…
Story Of The Footloose 