I love complicated whimsical music late at night. It’s possible to imagine dancing spontaneously occurring under a hundred streetlamps just out of view. I will never understand why more of the world is not awake these precious hours of early morning. The lack of humans makes it a lonely time to be aware, but oh the darkness is so nice outside my window. Just black with the occasional wail of dying alone frieght train brakes. My favorite time for that sound is the middle of the hot afternoon, when the sun is harshly burning images of everything white into your retinas. Heat rising off the pavement in blurry waves and a group of kids in shorts are learning how to skateboard when suddenly -that sound-. That wrenching at the human spirit artificial howl. It’s misplacement makes it precious in a way that it isn’t at night. On a basic level, like seeing the face of who you’re talking to, like having a voice, such sounds are allowable at night. Being alone belongs to the darkness.