This days 10pm. Listening to the rain dripping on roofs and windowsills and in the gutters. With the day flying by, everything's wrapped in that odd urban light of never-real-night again. Like a late remainder of day inescapably caught between the slowly pulsing being made of concrete and stone and the dense, rain-filled clouds. Late enough not to light a candle. Late enough to again let go of whatever mattered today. Edging night.