As time moves on, events become hazier. There were these things that happened in the small hours, between the depth of night and the gauze of early light. A pre-dawn ritual of breathing in the faint light on the horizon and knowing that we were fully alive. We partied all night in ravines, warehouses, and under bridges, courted death and life all in the same moment, wishing with all our hearts we would see what lay on the edge of reality. When morning came, it was not disappointment or end, but continuance and renewal. This daybreak ritual, and the music which accompanied it was otherworldly.
