Between the dusk of a summer night
And the dawn of a summer day
We caught at a mood as it passed in flight
And we bade it stoop and stay.
And what with the dawn of night began
With the dusk of day was done... ~ W.E. Henley
Once, I have told a friend how fascinated I am with clouds. Not everyone likes the clouds, I said. Most of them would be fascinated with the blue sky but the sky would be (terribly) dull without the clouds. He couldn't agree more. I do not know if he was amazed by what I just said or was totally bewildered as to why I had suddenly revealed such insight when we never even talk. Everything started with the clouds. Dusk was just a backdrop.
I do not know if I should tell someone a secret or not. Just for the purpose of making him (more) sensitive about the other person's feeling. But then again, I would break a promise if I did that. Should I? I just felt the pang of pain when he mentioned his name to her. Suddenly, I felt helpless for her. God, I wish I could do something for that friend.