Snippet

Early mornings.

Every so often, my well-being and sleeping pattern suffer ill at the hand that strikes three(am). A certain madness, that the darkness and contemplative silence associated with this time bring, overwhelms me and creates a desperate and ill-founded optimism within me, persuading me that these early, hidden hours hold unlimited possibilities and creative potential. My mind, as warped and empowered by art and literature as it is, incredulously believes that finite amounts of productivity are released at any time, believing and excusing my lack of productive daytimes as, during the day other people are sharing that productivity.