When everyone slept, her spirit awakened. The night was her time. When the sun quietly slips down the horizon, and the sky turns orange and shades of crimson, bathing her face in a light that made her look beautiful, she would look up at the sky and smile, ever so slightly. It was time to leave for home, sit in peace and enjoy her cup of green tea. The night inspired her to create. She made paintings that illustrated the depths of her heart, and read books that swept her away into worlds more beautiful and ideal than her own. Some days, she would step out at 3 am, just to feel the cool breeze on her face, and have a heart to heart conversation with the silver moon and the stars. They spoke to her spirit. It made her feel calm and one with nature.
The night was a symbol of freedom to her. it was a time when she could be anyone she wished to be. When the streets were empty, she would drive faster than cheetahs could go. She would sit by the river and watch the citylights dance about and form patterns on the water, colouring it in abundance. Sometimes, she wished that the sun would rise a day later, so that she could feel this peace a little longer, where no one would disturb her. No one would order her, or shout at her. She valued the dark a little more than light, for what shall the light brighten, if there was no night?