Minuit.

The dividing line between what has passed and what is coming, every midnight is a second filled with the light spirit of release of the day and with the excitement of expectations for a new day, new hopes, new chances. A second embedded in the stillness of the night, on the border of darkness and light. A moment of reflection in the moonlight. All is quiet. All is still. The working city already went to sleep, lights are off, windows are empty. Noises of laughter can be heard from the streets, the happiness of students from the ground floor, music floats in, life, life is inherent. I am the daughter of the night. Lying awake with no intention to sleep, my senses are all open to the inner voice which is forced to shut down in the hustle of the vibrant day. What will be my next move, my dreams are calling, my forever vivid brain is creating plans as a hurricane. Nothing is formulated, nothing is real. I want to catch them, I am aware of my responsibility on how I have to conquer my own life. And it aches, it is too much to take. So I am stuck. I know I would need to take a paper and the pen. For two weeks, for three months, for half a year now I know this. I already bought a new sketch book. I just have to find my pen. Only black. Only black tint will prevail. Maybe the next day, yes, I am sure, I can make it, I will. I will create a plan, day by day, with assignments now for myself, with the only boss for whom I have to account for my achievements is myself. But I am a bad boss. I am too sensible. I am too forgiving. But tomorrow will be different. I know, I know I can make it. Dawn is coming, the birds will be singing in the velvety fresh air that calls me to be part of the next day. Because, every midnight is a dividing line, separating us from the darkness into the light.

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