I remember those summers when I used to drive on twisting country lanes, at speed, listening to Nina Simone. I also remember that on a particular stretch of road; which was about 10 minutes from work, I would lean over and select one of my favourite tracks on her album: ‘Young, Gifted and Black’. No surprise why!!! Doing so somehow helped me to start my day at work in the right frame of mind. The song lyrics start like this:
‘To be young, gifted and black,
Oh what a lovely precious dream
To be young, gifted and black,
Open your heart to what I mean
In the whole world you know
There are billion boys and girls
Who are young, gifted and black,
And that's a fact!’
I miss those summers.
As they faded into autumn and then became warming winter memories, I had to learn to drive at dusk. Dusk was when the trailing edge (or the leading edge depending how you look at it!) of the sun sat below the horizon. At dusk I drove home, surrounded in an ambient quality of light that held me in safe hands despite the fact that it was not accompanied by the sun.
Saying that, I struggled to drive well in the twilight… maybe it was because that was the time immediately before or after night time. I found that my vision became severely hampered on the road and I ended up straining my eyes to see... my discomfort caused the beauty of the sunlight, scattered in the upper atmosphere, illuminating the lower atmosphere to elude me.
To be honest I actually hated driving in the twilight. Maybe it was also because I felt I had to be especially vigilant during those hours as I attempted to navigate home on those narrow country lanes. To me, the twilight hid numerous dangers; cloaking them in shadows. I guess it didn't help that I felt that I should still have been cuddled up in bed but instead I was on the road... and when that particular thought came to mind, it just used to make me feel blue… maybe that is why it is also called ‘l’heure bleue’. Funnily enough, as I drove home during the summer months it was at twilight that the smell of the flowers often seemed to be at their strongest… the many scents of erica ciliaris wafted into my car and started dancing to Nina Simone in my nostrils... it was a sensation that always caused my lips to curl up into the briefest of smiles.
It might surprise you to know that I could drive at night without fear or apprehension. I had to do so many times when work forced me to do really long hours; it was because we were commissioning a plant during those summer months. Back then, normally, I'd get home for about 9pm. Again it was Nina Simone’s album I chose to listen to when I got into the car but at night time I chose ‘Sinner Man’ to keep me company on the tasking journey home. As I listened to that track, I felt fine with only the lights from the full beam to guide me on my way and shield me from the night as I attacked each bend.
Right now I just plain miss the summer.
I woke up at 6:30am today. I raised the blinds to find that it was still dark outside... I couldn't believe that I was looking out into the dusk. In a couple of weeks I will wake up and stare into the twilight. It's unbelievable because just two weeks ago it was as bright as day at this same time in the morning.
The clocks here, in England, will go back one hour on the last Sunday of October. I'm happy at the extra hour in bed but I am not happy that I have no choice but to embrace GMT as autumn morphs into winter. Darkness is here to stay… for a while…
Another type of darkness is looking for me. I opened my e-mail on the last Sunday of September, just over a week ago, and I had one e-mail in my inbox.
It was from Sinnerman. He had sent it at 9:00pm. It read:
Sinnerman: Shubby Doo, where are u? I have made attempts to reach u severally. Are u in england or in nig? I need to have ur no where ever u are?
I smiled when I read it as I remembered his smile... his lips... I remembered the way he chuckled deep in his throat.
Then I re-read it but this time I shook my head as I remembered how some of his words and many of actions were really laden in deceit despite the fact that he’d iced them with pure sweetness. I remembered the games he used to want to play; the majority of which I was fortunate to simply side step, unscathed.
I read it for the third and final time. Then I switched off my computer. I didn't have energy for him.
I am a human being... yes o! The amazing Flying Snow is just a mere mortal... I simply emit radiant energy; hoping it will only be used for the benefit of those I love… for family... for friends... or perhaps even for those I don't know that genuinely need my help... I can only exist in the 7th level of the twilight... the one we all live in.
He is like a powerful zero level dark magician or vampire who is able to absorb energy from those around him and then wield it as his own power… he gives nothing... and in a similar fashion to a parasite he steals off others to feed… he can move through all the twilight levels so he hides there.
For my protection, I've learnt to follow the advice that Sergey Lukyanenko’s Night Watch agents give to all their gifted but uninitiated novices… ‘stay out of the twilight’.
Darkness is coming… it will soon be here… it may come looking for me… but the shadows of the gloom will have to work hard to engulf me.
Simply because I won’t make it easy to find me.
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