It’s almost midnight. I have to wake up in six hours but instead, I’m laying in bed and listening to the birds singing outside my window.
They, just like me, seem confused and awake at the wrong time of the day. The sound of morning birds singing while I’m not asleep yet always make me sad. That clear-cut, delicate song in a silent city reminds me that I have just stolen a couple of hours from the darkness of the night, and now I’m stealing a few moments of sleep while the rest of the city is slowly awakening.