Insomnia

It's 6 in the morning on a Sunday. One of those dry days where nothing moves even when the wind blows. The flowers are mute. The tall weeds are still sleeping. And the trees, they don't give a damn.

It's the best way to see the world. When it's not looking back. When it doesn't know yet that I'm watching it.

Narrating life instead of just acting on the script.

And still able to be a part of the audience.

Taking pictures of nothing. Things everyday I pass by. The view through a fence. Everything kept at a distance. The curve of the road as it tunnels down over the horizon. Like the world goes on forever. The sound a lonely car make as its passes over the empty road like a purring lion.

There's no alone at the hour. In that place. Just the world not looking back. All mine to document.