Its dark out here

As you know I work nights. Its interesting with its own quirks and features, strange people who cannot understand that the world isn't about them, businesses who need emergency help, people in need in all shapes and sizes. But it is stark at night. The light of day isn't obsuring the balderdash that people blather. You don't get calls at 3am to someone unless its pretty important, unless you have been on the turps that is. You cannot help but know that the person is after something from you directly. It makes night work constant and different, but although I work at night, I also live here.

Its quiet, my mind runs strange and interesting places and I hear things more clearly when I don't have to fight the ominous drone of people, cars, and things in general. Night is quiet, but its never still. It just happens that the movement at night is short, sharp and elegant, or so slow as to not be noticed by those that don't want to see. The dark is where people like me live, and love and wonder at the interesting properties of this world.

You don't see the world glitter like you can at night or strain under the light of a full moon or hide in the guile of the new. You cannot see my city and its rainment of glory in daylight but at night its roads run like rivers of light and the animals that call it home join you in their activity as day slowly breaks across the horizon.

So each day I see both the sides of this great work, this world we call home. I work at night and feel the need and hunger of those who are lost, broken and desparate every night but each shift finishes I get to live just for a while and walk in the glory of the night and its moves and its foibles.