Night. Dark, mysterious, foreboding,dangerous. But also comforting. It embraces, it comforts, it hides. No faces to judge. It brings dreams in which to escape, times in which to reflect, privacy. There is something strange and special about night. One can speak of things at this time more freely than at any other time. The secrets emerge, the shame flees, the dreams and goals and ambitions are shared and experienced in ghost form. Judgement is gone; in its place is only friendship and understanding and support. The absence of a face... Perhaps this is what allows the words to spill out so freely. Uncensored by day's blinding, harsh light. But does this make the things done unreal? Are they to be forgotten in the face of day? Is this another life, the night? Where does the line fall? These questions, rather than repulse, seduce. The wonder of night is everywhere. In the shadows. In our minds. It is a world uncharted. It is foreign. It is a mystery. It is love.