ink sky blue night

He writes to know he exists. This shows that his existence is flickering. But it doesn't matter. The desklamp is bright and the outside is dark. It isn't so dark if you look more closely; you are still able to distinguish the different shades of blue in the sky. His window is open. Across the street a person might look into his desklamp and its core of light and consider its place in the midst of this quiet neighbourhood that is now coming to rest. Hear the train pass by in the distance? Toddlers on their wagons nearing the tail-end of their after-dinner stroll. He dips his pen in ink; there's so much good and delicate in this place. And begins the next chapter.