There is a faint scent of gardenia in the grey light, as the color gradually returns to the world. The northeastern sky grows pale, and, in the southwest, a band of dark blue lies over the valley, surmounted by a band of purple. I will not stay up to watch the red that will soon appear. Draw the curtains, hoard what little night remains. Let day flood the town, I will go down into unremembered dark dreams.