She felt redemption in the dark. The night air was her source of oxygen. She learnt the language of eeriness. Her song was the relentless ticking of the pocket watch. The breeze sang her favorite hymns. The stars illuminated her dreams. The clouds carried her letters to other worlds. She liked how the hollowness of it all filled her inside-out. She liked the inconspicuousness of the footsteps that lurked silently behind lit walls and windows inside curious eyes- through which emotions could play in and out all night. She liked the cold. She loved being vulnerable to the gypsy winter winds that blew from undiscovered lands of pirates. They often sang shanties to her under the starlight. And sometimes rain came and brought sorrows from nations where someone died of drought. She liked the passion frolicking about her emotions at night. She could get over her grudges now- like running worn-out fingers over battle scars. She could smile on her memories now- like wild lavenders in sunlit meadows.

She felt redemption in the dark.

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