A long time ago, in a city called Toronto a boyfriend and I would prowl the city on weekends late at night. Walk the boardwalk, sit in all night cafes, speculate on the lives of shift-workers, get to see people and images we wouldn't normally see and write about them. We called ourselves the Nightwalkers.
A part of me is still drawn to that night life. Out here on the Edge I'm up late. Well, that's wrong. I laid down on the couch at around 9pm and awoke after an, ahem, "short" nap. You know those naps. I awoke at 2am in a terrible state as a friend and I had been securing Liam Neeson in a fool proof cell (he kept breaking out)because he had been bombing carousels full of children. As we were locking him up behind three steel doors, his power saw was hacking through the last door. Such are the ways of some of my
Anyway, here I am in the middle of the night, writing away. The world is quiet, the rain has stopped and the sea is like a mirror. No FB friends are out and about in the cyber world.
All is well.