"Always, when she was left alone at a certain hour in the afternoon, she was a shade beside herself. In the lowest brilliance of the day she wondered who she was."- Momaday from House Made of Dawn.
I find sometimes in "lowest brilliance of the day" I have the feeling of an impending tragedy or winding hollowness being slowly carved out. The transition of day to night is more beautiful, or tragic than I can bare. As far as the loneliness... that's a whole other beautiful crime...
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