Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.
It's a privilege to act, and you have to protect and cherish it.
The Internet works because a lot of people cooperate to do things together.
For un-subscribe please check the mail footer.