Notte in Bianco

I love the night.

But it wasn’t always like this.

The sun and its inviting light seemed to constantly win over darkness and a sky full of stars.

And now I wonder what feels more natural to enjoy…

Even though I still prefer it when the sun rays caress my face, the frail shimmer of the stars and the sheer power of the beaconing moon are becoming more and more seductive.

(And no, I am not suffering from insomnia.)

(Unless it consists of searching for the disguised pleasures of life, when most people are laying on their beds, unencumbered… In sogno.)

The night is not as cold as it had been for a while.

I look at the sky, drunk on life and maybe something stronger. My mind wanders a thousand routes.

(In sogno.)

I am unable to focus solely on a conversation, or the people walking nearby.

I turn to a friendly face and I return.

(Sono sveglia.)

We talk for hours. You know how to keep up with my moony ways.

We are approached by strangers asking for change, lighters or conversation and we take it as lightly as if it was a familiar face.

We laugh, we smile, we scoff, our eyelids lower in sadness. We are together for the best of times and the worst of times. (Dickens can bite it.)

I go back to looking around for something or someone but you shouldn’t take offense. It’s just my mind. My heart is still there.

(In sogno.)

I see something else. I see someone else.

I dream. As life keeps changing, I dream.

Oh my dear, do I dream.

You touch my arm. You ask me another question.

(Sono sveglia. Ancora.)

We decide we should call it a night.

We part ways and I always hope you make it home safe.

And from then, I move forward. To a sleepless night.

But sometimes it’s complicated to distinguish… Do I dream in an endless loop or am I awake for a few fleeting moments?

(Sogno o son desta?)