1:33am

1:33am.
The night-deeps.
I imagine the city in silence, for I can hear nothing. This is an illusion for this is Saturday night and Brighton and Hove are never quiet for long. It feels it has been 1:35am for hours, It feels I have not spoken to anyone in days.
The night-deeps elongate, stretch out. Languid time.
Lazy as a summers day dragged under the sea.