2:04am
A silence so quiet it is almost a noise. Everything that has a noise seems loud; my fingers typing, the laptop humming. I listen for the sounds of cars outside, but hear the dark roads instead. I am nostalgic and pensive, waiting for something to happen. Something is waiting for me.
Dark roads, as I said.
Never meant to stay awake this late. Meant to go to sleep at midnight but the hours slip away. Everything seems very still in this room. I imagine if I tried that I could imagine voices. A radio-murmur of voices from the locked up workshops below.
Downed tools in a stillness of oil and wood and metal.
It feels like Christmas now, and thinking that, I think further, of the cliff top path at Perranporth I would usually walk this time of year. That path is closed to my footsteps now, and I know, except perhaps as an old man, I shall never see Perranporth again.
I was young when I first walked there - the last years of being young anyway - and now I am not young - but not old either. A liminal age, a borderline phase.
I should go to sleep, let myself slip onto those dark roads and dream, and go and meet whatever might be waiting for me out there.
2:11am
