"Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark"

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Dark. Darkness. The Night. I have been chasing around my thoughts on a subject I can't even properly define, hoping to catch them in my metaphysical cocktail shaker, throw in some crushed ice and hope like hell the resultant concoction has enough kick to give me a Eureka moment.......but should that fail it will hopefully have me drunk enought to get my first good nights sleep in a while. I remember our family holiday trips down the coast, being grateful for my brand new radio/tape walkman to bring me relief from the day-time boredom. But as dusk fell, I would slowly become entranced with the world outside the car window. If flowers bloom in sunlight, do trees bloom in the dark? Does the crisp night air grant their spiring limbs a fleeting moment of life? We've been taught from infancy that shapes are regular, fitting endless squares and circles into their corresponding slots. Yet these same shapes become magical, their edges shimmer and shift, deceive and delight. Then why, when late at night I walk from bedroom to hallway, do I feel something creep silently, keeping one step ahead of my shifting eyes? Should it ever really have been labelled "fear of the dark"? Is it perhaps not fear born of the heightening of our senses? An instinctive reaction to the stripping away of the deluge that assails us every day? Holy shit, is that my imagination? I'd better do something to distract myself....... Hmmm......that cocktail is starting to take effect, the dregs from the shaker have spilled out and with them my last coherent thoughts. I think I'll go to bed now, but first I must switch on the passage light.....

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