10pm and on, stepwise and slow. An empty bottle a burnt-down candle, Moon came and went by again and a bit of her light left glittering and shining on thin hair. (Hardly moving as to not shake it off.) There's still a party going across the street, but fewer dancing shadows with every hour to pass. Flipping through pages, floating in words, dissolving in mental images, hiding from the week for a few more hours. Have a peaceful night wherever you are.