Monday, December 05, 2005


Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

(photo: playing with my camera and the night sky, 12/5/05, canon digital rebel)