It sounds dramatic, like the title of a novel. Perhaps one day I will write ‘Six Hours of Night’ – the day I get my head out of my arse and stop being like all the other wannabes. Wanting to be is essentially meaningless as there is no real process that takes you from not being to being. Wanting to be a winner won’t help you unless you start the race. Wanting to be a writer won’t even begin to happen until I take pen to paper.
The idea of midsummer night is timelessly romantic (not in the sexual sense) and I have a small portion of desire to stay up through the 6 dark hours and wait for dawn. What I would do in those hours I’m not sure, probably cross stitch and watch the idiot box. Have people stopped using the phrase ‘idiot box’ since tvs became flat screen? I’ll have to do a survey.