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The night here is inky black. Rich and uninterrupted by the glowing haze of electric light.

In the late season it seeps into everything quicker and stays longer. Staining the world, saturating it in darkness.

What is this color, this pure black that grows evermore pervasive in and around me as the days pass? As if an entity of its own, it descends upon us enveloping everything until it lifts like fog in the morning sun. A brief intermission.

I've become curious, skeptical even of the behavior of this darkness. How does it change? Where does it linger? When, why? It is a character in the story, a neighbor, a natural force. What do I know about the night?

Now, I begin a study.