May 8, 2012
When I was a kid I imagined the sound of night to be wind in the branches and the beat of firefly wings.
As a teen I imagined it to be the breath of the sleeping.
Night in New York where the quiet hours were never so quiet, was always a conversation, muffled and rich.
In LA it was the tinkle and chime of a distant party.
Today, if I close my eyes after 2 or so, wherever I am, night is always full of keyboards... clicking away, endlessly, out there in the dark.