"It's 4:18 AM again..."
The night offers solace from the pangs and jabs of the day. The quiet that blankets the lighting of the last cigarette of a packet, looking out the window as the city sleeps. Police sirens whir in the distance. We are allowed to peek into the loneliness of this Satyr's privacy, it's almost as if he's heard you and turned round to see who's there. Are you friend or foe? Do you understand the plight of those who work godless1