Creeping up slowly

Last week I was in Denmark and I was there for the longest day. Even though I am much more of a mediterranean kinda guy these days, there is something almost fascinating about the Danish summer despite the degrees being quite a few less. As grey as it is in winter and similar to England, on cloudless days there is a hard blue sky that not many other places can match up to. On weeks like this it lingers hard in to the long summer day and drifts off as the dark ever so slowly creeps up.

My first night, gazing out the long patio window of my first floor room in to a lush green view, at 11:45 pm it still wasn't completely 100% dark. That particular day had seen a light wind blow over an overcast grey all day, and there was no moonlight like other nights to guide the view. Still, a twilight hung over us, anticpating the deep dark tip-toeing and creeping my way.

It gives you an impression it is moving towards dawn, my favourite time of day after a nice night out and before going to bed. But I still had to go to bed. It had been a long day and as tired as I was, the view held me there and kept a tug-of-war with my bed. It felt like the sun was up and coming (even though it would be within five hours) but there was a night's sleep to consume. It could even confuse and disorientate you if you had been blindfolded and it had been taken away from your eyes in that moment.

That mild blend of day and night can make you feel like you are neither here or there, trapped in a twilight. About four years in the plain of day I had felt like that. Everything had changed suddenly but I did not know what for. I did not know which direction to head for. Was I going towards dawn or towards dusk? There must have been a thin wire of light somewhere, but I couldn't see it. I just new change was happening. Once you can see it, once you can work out from the light if it's time to go to bed or time to get up, then you can deal with it, you can find a path.

I sometimes like to walk around the house at night without turning any lights on. I like to find my way and to rely on my senses to keep me on my toes. Though I can feel my feet firmly on the floor as another change is teatering. Always on my toes and ready, but I know where I stand, and importantly I know where to go. I think.

When the tug-of-war had finished, I slept soundly that night in Denmark.


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