1am, my favourite time of day.
For once, the Eiffel tower is dark, standing a silent vigil on the sleeping town. Her comforting presence like that of a mother, its mass darker still than the city’s darkness.
Even the merry-go-around has stilled, all horses asleep, all boats ashore. Familiar places take new meanings and the absence of light brings out the minute details that sunlight bleaches out.
As I sped home in a taxi, I took stock of the sleeping town. Loved up couples heading home after a romantic evening. Groups of friends walking towards the subway. Restaurants finishing up, their staff wary after a hard day’s work. Bakeries starting to light from within, the first preparations starting.
So many things ending that would start anew a few hours later.
For a few heartbeats, the town is still, breathing so lightly in its momentary slumber.
The balance is shifting between sleep and wakefulness, as the clock’s hands continue their downwards race. The sun is soon to come, my night is soon to end.
1am, my favourite time of night.
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