Everyone has memories of the eve of the night.
The memory of not being able to sleep with excitement while waiting for the great joy of the next day, and the memory of tossing and turning with ten thousand thoughts before an important decision. And also, the memory of clinging to that night, refusing even the morning to come, for fear of something that would come upon oneself like fate.
We feel especially lonely on the eve of the night. Our five senses become infinitely delicate, and our souls with extreme humbleness open wide to Him.
That’s why I keep our mouths shut and humbly prepare for communication. Every time I do, I can hear music and the rain water soaks my whole body. Music rises up in the night sky and spreads, and the rain visits and wets everyone who is on the eve of the night. The fragments of daily life that used to be weary, timid, and shameful become birds. Eventually, at dawn, the tracks of the birds become an invisible line that connects me, others, and Him.