|Thanks Anu! I am taking this dusk shot to be my dawn.|
It’s the only time in the day where the ‘now’ wins over the ‘then’ or ‘ever’. I feel an urgent morning hunger. Around six thirty I make myself toast and wrap it in Nutella. My morning consumerism. The house is still quiet. Its dreams are speedily drawing to climax. My brother slips out to run – quietly. Lights of software houses and shopping malls blink in tiredness across the horizon. It is dawn they say. Dawn. A fragile break in the relentless rollout of time. From darkness into light. From sleep into wakefulness. For many, it is a new day’s fight. For the unslept, it is a continued attempt at fighting time. Sleep is capitalism’s respite against itself, some say. Perhaps true. It is the only way, I say, to experience the transition between intensities of time.