Some­thing always attracts me towards the night. When the sun has gone down, I feel a thrill, more ener­gized and more alive. Spe­cially when I am sit­ting alone in my room, lis­ten­ing to the sounds of the night — dis­tant and unre­lated, yet oddly com­fort­ing. The cats cry­ing, dogs bark­ing, ran­dom traf­fic and the occa­sional whis­tle of the night watchman.

My brain, hands seem to work faster. My cre­ativ­ity seems to increase. Over­all, I become more focused. Barely feel­ing hunger or thirst or sleep, my brain seems to crackle with ideas, and I seem to change. Why? I have no idea. But I do my best work at night.

The tick­ing of the clock is some­thing I love hear­ing when alone; soli­tary, I feel an odd thrill know­ing that I am alive where oth­ers are dead — asleep. No one will dis­turb me with odd or petty requests. Peace. Quiet.

Deli­cious soli­tude. Com­plete concentration.

Of course, work­ing through­out the night has its price. A cer­tain break from the lives of oth­ers. Being dis­tinct, sep­a­rate from oth­ers.

Quite cheap.