So it's 3am, I'm at the office. The world seems a bit out of sync this early in the morning, but that's maybe due to the lack of sleep...of course I didn't fall asleep at 5pm. Who was I kidding?

I admit, when it got to 10pm and I was still up, starring into the darkness and re-thinking, re-evaluating and overanalysing my relationships, past and present, I got a bit worried.

I must have slipped into the semi-sleep briefly as I recall a horrendous repeated image of driving my father's car, loosing all control over it, car speeding up and finally crashing into various objects, last of which was a muddy river that swallowed me right at the time when the alarm went off. (I don't have to hold a degree in Dream Interpretation - and yes, before you ask, you CAN have a degree in that - to know that the car crash signifies my working day ahead, which indeed with little to no sleep is bound to end up being exactly that.)

1am. I got up, felt like drunk which I haven't been in years.

Putting my underwear on seemed like the most intricate yoga exercise in balance and self-control, everything sounds a bit muffled like when you banged your head or you're under water or you banged your head under water.

My room, my reflection in the mirror, our house, everything seems sort of dirty and cold at this hour, mainly because the observer is out of place, stripped of what he considers being the only reasonable ritual for this time of the day...
(=snuggled unconscious in the bed, preferably next to a person, who's close to his heart and who's presence in the bed makes it a little bit harder to relax properly, but in the effect that little bit more magical, because having him here in this intimate space means you've found someone special, a reciprocity of feelings, which is pretty fucking awesome and does not happen for everyone)

...I have cycled to work. Partially cause I am a tiny bit insane and partially because I'm being haunted by a slightly racially insensitive image of black teenagers stabbing a knife in my throat on a night bus. Somehow, what worries me the most about this hypothetical murder scenario, is the hygienic profile of the blade entering my body as I'm almost 100% sure those teenage thugs have not washed and sanitized the knife before using it to finish my life. And here comes the beautiful thing, the only beautiful thing that would never happen should I have stayed in bed. 7miles cycle through London with literally no people in it, quiet and sleepy and surprisingly lukewarm. I have passed a little garden wall, on which, -majestic and stoic like a sphinx-sat a Fox.

I looked in it's eyes, all Tiger's Eye-like, by which I mean the gemstone, not the actual eyes of an actual tiger, that would be a funny parable for a Fox given that tigers are a cat species, whereas foxes are the canine family which made them like the opposites and mortal enemies in human perception, right. Anyhow, that was the beauty of being up in London 1am, on my way to work. To see a Fox can only mean good things ahead. But than again, I grew to believe there are indeed amazing things ahead if you go through life looking for them, expecting them and believing in them regardless the tiger-eyed foxes.