The beauty of the night is that, there, the things by which the movement of existence is foremost noticed, measured and, most importantly, experienced are largely absent – that is, namely, the light. By living deeper into the night, extending into that space where the whole is covered over by a dense blanket, a stilling tone, the belief has sometimes mistakenly been that one is using the darkness to hide oneself, either from others or oneself. But in fact the darker truth is, in the languid quiet, one is expatiating on the possibility of distancing existence from time itself: a time away from Time. There, the choice is made to head into an existing with less places to go, having come to an existing always more abbreviated because away from the oppressions of time as history, as time lit up as the ongoing consciousness of a long-term project. In the hours of the absence of light, life is shorter not in the sense of years, but in the experience of the moment, which is all that time is – a mood energised by movement; a movement energised by light.
To those who use it for a purpose more peaceful than sleep, the night offers a different meaning to the Day.