It is 3.45am and sleep is short supply. Indeed it has been a broken, disjointed thing tonight and so I ponder and think and listen. Despite the fact I need the rest, I do like this time of the morning. I am lying here, propped up in bed, in the dark, having a conversation with an archaeologist on Twitter, sipping from a mug of hot chocolate and listening to the wind and rain outside. Tonight doesn't need music.
3.45am can bring many things - mostly it brings you quiet, a stillness in the world, contemplation, a lack of distraction.
3.45am can get you thinking, and considering, and reconsidering - mulling all sorts of things, reminiscing, imagining, projecting.
3.45am is a little visited country, but it is a nice one, a favourite one. I like it here, I always have, I always will. It is both an annoyance and a pleasure to find myself awake at this time, and it can go either way. On the whole, I like it when I remain awake.
I can hear birds. Soon there will be the dawn chorus. Soon there will be getting up, bustling about, getting on with the day, work, people, chat, laughter, stuff to do, places to be, people to see. Soon there will be a different place, a different world.
Right now there is just me, the quiet, and the slumbering world. Right now is just about perfect.