Darkness is when I do my best work. Or so I claim, at least.
Tonight is typical. Dark, friendly, and quiet. I can step away from my work and talk to myself in the dark pretending to talk to an invisible friend, the spirit of the dark nights. On a really good night, I can sense the spirit directly, as if in a vision or waking dream. Most times, I just walk in the dark, alone, stopping by the occasional street light for a moment alone to turn up my collar and consider the merits of coffee or a cigarette.
Like the opening of a bad film noir hardboiled PI movie, it seems like this time is mostly lit by poorly functioning neon. As this sign flashes, I can see it illuminating the silent crowds that are always there. Only tonight it seems like they are communicating, at least with each other. But certainly not with the likes of me. The rain is welcome.
Along with their foolish lives, I also have this power. Odin knows I have it. The silent masses know in their hearts about it, but are in no shape to defend themselves from the sounds of silence.