A day is like a breath, inhaling in the morning and exhaling in the evening. So there is a time of stillness between the two, which comes roughly in the blue hour at twilight and in a blue-grey season. This is when you are most alone after one party has ended and the next has yet to begin. Evensong. The poverty of spirit is somewhat frightening, you are ashamed of how little you have to show, but there is a kind of sweetness to it as well, the silence, the emptiness, a mood that cancels out the years.