nineteen.

...And you held us in your city lights, when our eyes had lost the stars. And we made our peace with lonely nights, and you healed our broken hearts.

There's something that happens during the night. Something almost unquantifiable, yet it's so visceral that you can't understand why you don't know what it is. Night is more than just a lack of light. More than a period of time in which the sun rests its eyes. It's a time for inspiration. Contemplation. Illumination of artistic creation. Though the nightlife may rage on, it's the time when the dreamers take flight.

So take flight.

eighteen.

Put yourself in this situation: sitting at a stoplight, windows down. Listening to the hushed sounds of a piano, while still able to hear the immense silence that encompasses the world around you.

In the late hours of the night, a place that sees so much commotion and traffic in the daylight seems to stop. Not just shut down for the night, but actually be paused. Do you know the sound of silence? It's like seeing the whole world in a freeze frame, if even for one moment. It's where the only sound you can hear is the residual ringing from the constant berating your ears have taken during the day.

Change setting: The feel of the road rolling beneath you. The sound of wind rushing past your windows. The smell of the crisp night air surrounding.

Do you know the sound of silence?