Michelangelo sibyl from the Sistine Chapel

 

black and white sunrise

Moving through the night under a half moon, I feel detached from the rest of the world. Everything has become smaller and more intimate. At the center of this other world that I inhabit is the rapport between my car and me. It's a bond that protects and serves me well as I make my way to work with the sounds of the radio filling the space around me. All is calm within my small universe free from the cold of the night.

The journey is a familiar one as I glide past houses that harbor sleeping bodies. For them the day is done and they sleep not knowing that there are others who are still awake and on the move. These others on the road are hidden behind headlights. They are expressionless silhouettes passing me in silence. Our destinations are kept to ourselves. No contact is made nor is any attempted.

My car is stiff from the below freezing temperatures and utters complaints now and then. Each bump on the road vibrates up through my body and I try to take my time. Both the car and I need to adjust to the cold. Besides there isn't any reason to hurry. Work will still be there even if I am late.

I park my car and take one last look at the night sky as I walk toward the building. The hum of the interstate provides background noise as I look at the moon peering down. Part of me knows that when I walk out of the building nine hours later, the sun will be shining and the other world will be dominant once again. An imaginary border will have been crossed and the world will start to accelerate again as I start to end my day. My calm world will have gone dormant and I will follow it by falling asleep.

Sunrise for me is seen through a black and white security monitor. The details consist mainly of the lines in the parking lot slowly coming into focus and the cars acquiring a different value of gray. Very few people have been able to capture this moment in oil paint and perhaps that is a good thing.

The sullen mood of the past two days has lifted. I'm not sure what triggered it, but I am glad that it is gone. When they happen it is almost as though my mind shuts down for a time. My world shrinks to the point where I can no longer express what I am feeling. All productive thought ceases to function. A void takes over and all that I can do is wait for it to pass. It isn't crippling, but I wouldn't want to feel that way every day. Thankfully those periods of numbness only seem to occur every few weeks. The fact that I am a mere eight hours away from having four days off of work might have something to do with my mood change.

I spent my lunch break reading about J. P. Morgan in the latest issue of The New Yorker. Before I read the article I knew next to nothing about the man. He was merely a name from the history books. A name that isn't heard that often unless people are discussing money or others like him at the turn of the century.

All of those people from the turn of the century seem so distant to me. The Victorian age has long passed away. Today we have Victoria's Secret instead of Queen Victoria. Somehow I see very little in common there.

 
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