Even as a child, I was averse to sleep. I was the kid in Boy Scouts who got out of his sleeping bag once I was sure everyone was snoring. The night whispers to me, even more so with a campfire. The embers stay hot for a very long time, though thy may not appear so. In the morning, all you'd have to do was stir up the dead gray ashes to find the glittering deep heat beneath. Toss on some tinder and voila, fire is born again. At 2 in the morning, the flames were merely napping, easily aroused to continue their hypnotizing dance. How many times did I crawl back into the tent when the stars began to vanish? How many times did I pretend to have woken early? Sometimes I would walk the unknown wilderness while the world slept. This habit has continued into my adult life. Whenever I visit a friend in a new city, I inevitably find myself walking alone through the night. One snowy dawn in Chicago I found myself at the end of the Navy Pier, silent an...
Just practicing writing. Feel free to comment.