dark at 5pm on a night with no plans: every passing minute is a reminder of endless nothingness, existence is a prison
dark at 5pm & on the way to an evening plan: look how the city lights dance for me, who knows what wonders await, the night is young!
It's the last week of August. I shouldn't be sitting in front of a computer working on a spreadsheet I should be sitting in front of a body of water sipping a spiked seltzer and reading my third book of the week.