And The Dark Hides All
Well it's 1:22 AM and I can't sleep.
I have a flight tommorow night, and I've got LOTS of stuff to do tommorow so this is probably a horrible idea --- wasting precious sleeping time on my pc, that is. But anyways, the view outside is simple yet kind of pretty. The floral curtains are pulled to the side as usual and I can see Taipei 101 and a collection of other buildings ranging near and far from here. All the stuff is mostly black save some street lights.
And it just all looks so peaceful.
Tricks you almost, into thinking that nothing bad is happening under the curtain of the night. That the owners of those far away motorcycle sounds aren't as reckless and that all is safe in those dark alleys I can't even see from my tenth floor seat. And soem of the lights I can see in the offices of Taipei 101 reminds of me how hard people have it. It's a Sunday and it's 1:30 AM now. And people are working. My dilemnia of insomnia is so much simple then their problems. At least for now, now I'm still without problems, or at least most of them can be solved by my own abilities.
Speaking of all this, I saw one of those ridiculous lovely night views of the city last week. On a mountain it was, and at night. Words can't even do it justice. You could see the whole city, all bright and beautiful and blinking. I could see some of the landmark buildings (such as Taipei 101) become shorter thn a toothpick across the vast landscape. Everything was lit, and in places nearer to where I was, I could see moving lights (cars) going down and up, there and here. It amazed me because all this vastness was one picture to me standing high above. And I was going to be part of that picture once I left the mountain. The car I would be seated in would become one of those moving miniscual lights.
The greatest part was actuallly the closeness of it. It felt like a minature, a snow globe. I felt as if I could pluck the buildings up and take them into my hand, despite knowing they were hundreds of miles away. There were strands of bright lights, the bridges and highways curving and winding perfectly, interlocked and intercrossed between everything else. To me, they were jewerly, strands of necklaces and bracelets that tinkered and glittered far brighter than gold, and if I just had the courage to take them from the city, they would be mine. I would have ropes of beads brighter than gold, brighter than stars.
It's 1:37 AM now.
Oh anyone, talk to me.
I have a flight tommorow night, and I've got LOTS of stuff to do tommorow so this is probably a horrible idea --- wasting precious sleeping time on my pc, that is. But anyways, the view outside is simple yet kind of pretty. The floral curtains are pulled to the side as usual and I can see Taipei 101 and a collection of other buildings ranging near and far from here. All the stuff is mostly black save some street lights.
And it just all looks so peaceful.
Tricks you almost, into thinking that nothing bad is happening under the curtain of the night. That the owners of those far away motorcycle sounds aren't as reckless and that all is safe in those dark alleys I can't even see from my tenth floor seat. And soem of the lights I can see in the offices of Taipei 101 reminds of me how hard people have it. It's a Sunday and it's 1:30 AM now. And people are working. My dilemnia of insomnia is so much simple then their problems. At least for now, now I'm still without problems, or at least most of them can be solved by my own abilities.
Speaking of all this, I saw one of those ridiculous lovely night views of the city last week. On a mountain it was, and at night. Words can't even do it justice. You could see the whole city, all bright and beautiful and blinking. I could see some of the landmark buildings (such as Taipei 101) become shorter thn a toothpick across the vast landscape. Everything was lit, and in places nearer to where I was, I could see moving lights (cars) going down and up, there and here. It amazed me because all this vastness was one picture to me standing high above. And I was going to be part of that picture once I left the mountain. The car I would be seated in would become one of those moving miniscual lights.
The greatest part was actuallly the closeness of it. It felt like a minature, a snow globe. I felt as if I could pluck the buildings up and take them into my hand, despite knowing they were hundreds of miles away. There were strands of bright lights, the bridges and highways curving and winding perfectly, interlocked and intercrossed between everything else. To me, they were jewerly, strands of necklaces and bracelets that tinkered and glittered far brighter than gold, and if I just had the courage to take them from the city, they would be mine. I would have ropes of beads brighter than gold, brighter than stars.
It's 1:37 AM now.
Oh anyone, talk to me.