The night


I thought about art as I watched him, not turning on a single light in the darkened room. I thought about the sound of music drifting into the void, about chocolate being my little luxury, and about the artists who have stood by our side. They were sometimes misunderstood or belittled. They were sometimes misunderstood or dismissed as shallow or selfish. 


Outside, cloudy lights illuminated the unseen, and there was more injustice and unrevealed in the world. No animal movement was felt in the night in the fields where the mountains did not shield them.


My stomach and all its filth, which moves even today, fades away, and the universe, which is no longer strange or special, moves on, not even for a moment out of focus. 

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