Literature
Dawn to Dusk
I stare out my window, watching as the tendrils of scarlet streak across a brand new sky. I see the last of the twinkling stars fade away into a future work of art, and hear a dog bark not too far away. Now aware of everything around me, I find myself gazing into the last patch of night sky, trying to figure out why it can't spread. Most people enjoy going to sleep and waking up the next day to a sunrise that looks as though Picasso himself painted it, all the way from heaven. I like to sit on the floor by my window, feeling the everlasting intensity of the darkness outside drawing me in. When I wake up, temporarily blinded by the bright sunl