Talk to me in sunshine, when the light creeps in to brighten every corner to a shade of insight in my mind. For even when the moon pulls in the tides of change or gloomy dark the sunlight blinds me till I smile.
Just so, the grey days dim the memories of joy, and rainfall is synonymous with tears.
I cannot help myself; I am the day, I am the night, I am the wind.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
The contrast just might do me in.
Is that a good thing?
In that case, yes.