the evening

Not necessarily that subductive, deeply mysterious, time of the day just after dusk, but the blurring of the harsh, high definition textures of the bright light of day into the vague smoothness of the early night. Every tiny moment, every infinitesimal point of darkness is fraught with drama. Obscured by the secrecy of the shadows, of the unknown mysteries. The stifled groans and cries of the barely imagined struggles, with and against. The furtive passions. The lurking predation of cruelty, injury, and hurt. The entangling bondage of shame and the strident declaration of naked freedom. All enclosed by the quiet paucity of visible information, allowing, drawing, the imagination into the play of emotions over it's softly rippling surface. Even, and more, and less, than even. ...the evening.