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She has always favoured the night over the day. The light of the day allows all who would bask in it to be active and go about their lives. They go to world, travel, socialise and spend time composing themselves as human beings. In the night, however, all those people retreat to the comfort of four walls and recharge so that they may continue in their cycle. They may extend their days by engaging further, long after the sun has set. They go out drinking, dining and dancing. It’s not as if she doesn’t do these things, she loves them. She loves the night for several reasons.

There is, however, one reason that she favours the night that stands above all others. She is fascinated by the glow that the street lights bring to the horizon. For her, it always seems like an attempt by man to reach out to the deep black abyss. The glow of the street light, created to protect them all from the dangers created by man when the sun is absent. It is those very dangers that prevent her from taking full advantage of a time that she adores most. How she would love to take long walks in a city that she only sees in the light of day. She longs to see the way the leaves look in the absence of sunny, blue skies. Environmentalists call it “light pollution”, and that always makes it sound so evil. But she like to see the state in which Man leaves his world behind while he slumbers.

And when they slumber, she takes a moment to disconnect herself from her entire species and anything related to it by simply looking up. She looks beyond the street light, up at the twinkling blanket thrown over the world to tuck all its creatures in and takes comfort in knowing that it is in this image that she can confide. When her mind swims with heavy thoughts the accompany existential crises, she knows that she can step outside and look up to see the shining stars that have been there for as long as she can remember.

Her friends, the Evening Star, Sirius, Orion and the Southern Cross, are all there, ready to hear her tales. She tells them all her deepest fears because she knows that they will not tell anyone, and they will hold those words for eternity. She can always stand under them and ask what life was like when she was young, and they tell her about how they used to watch her sit with her closest allies and they would introduce her to the celestial beings. Though the allies come and go, the stars always remained with her, wherever she went. Even on road trips, she would look out of the window and watch them fly through the sky with her, just to keep her company. And now she sits with her glowing friends, reminiscing on days gone by, knowing that the current trials are merely minutes that shall pass. They tell her how much she has been through, and how much she will still see, as if they see it all happening at that point. They tell her that they can see her right now, an old woman, sitting in peace and looking right up at them.

She has always favoured the night over the day. The night is the old friend that stays with her and brings her peace.

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