The world slowly wakes up, noise by noise, while I try to capture it with my eyes. The lights behind me reassure me I'm at home, bragging their warmth and inviting me in. Yet I'm still sitting on this balcony, hanging my legs and my feet resting on the old tile roof. I'm distracted and attracted by the feeling of the night.

When everything seems to hold its breath and time disappears for the arrival of a new day.

When the stars seem like a thousand suns, giving that small amount of light that keeps our dreams safe.

Even the quick flashing Christmas lights, tinkering brightly on the balcony of the dormant house in front, are overpowered by the true glow of a single star. The street lights beneath the rooftops light the roads for those who won’t walk but stay asleep.

Pigeons start making their first sounds, rustling in the holes were their wings rest and their eyes close. Disrupting the silence, their wings flutter in the still air as they fly to and from there.

A slight brush of daylight peaks behind the tall church, only making its outline and shadow visible. The shapes of dark clouds start appearing from their contrast with the rising sun.

My ears are rapidly filled with the vibrations of the sudden ring of the churches’ bell, a constant reminder of the reality of time.

It feels as if yesterday and today are magically combined as I look up to find missing stars. Yet one remains, left behind to savour the last moments of serenity. Soon the noises will open the worlds’ eyes, and finally awake a new day will begin.

and miles to go before I sleep

There will be thousands of people that will cross roads with you. Some might give you browns and grays that will darken you painting. Yet some might turn to be the brightest, warmest colours. The trick is to remember that for there to be light in you painting, it was to have shadows. And if there's a time when you think it's getting too dark, remember: you're the one holding the brush.

And life is your canvas.