Week 1 - Sophie Zhu

To most, the time of sleep is a time void of color. Yet they have not seen the way the sky pulsates in shades of yellow and orange in the odd hours of the night, like a dragon trying to break free of the heavens. The only yellow they see is the artificial glow of a street lamp, and artificial hope that pushes a way their demons. Little do they know that true light is right above them. The canvas of the heavens have never been truly painted with ink. Even at the darkest of times, shares of blue show hope for day. Or rather, day never ceases. Who are we to define day and night? How can we, after seeing all the stars in the sky?