Edward Hopper is the patron saint of urban night and sadness.
When you don't sleep much night becomes grainy.
The stars shine through a dirty veil.
The dawn isn't a relief. The moon exposes gloom still further.
And yet! After the second or third insomniac night, a storm becomes peaceful, streetlights shine.
Even darkness brightens. Lights flicker. Your eyes adapt a nightime strength the day never knows.
The people you see in the diner at 3am all have the same gray grimness What is it? You show it too.
None of you talk, none of you smile. It's not spring.
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