I am — without a doubt — not a morning bird. Dawn is a battle against will, energy, and the drive to continue the manmade function of digital time. Though, in here, weekdays, ends and holidays are a myth. Here, there is but night and day, and I loosely keep track of that.
In the brief period of gazing through barred glass, my skin welcomes the kiss of the sun’s warm rays. A match is flicked upon my gas-drenched veins; creating a living, breathing, burning desire to sprint past these leering predators and into the city of the grand but vastly unknown.