4:30 am. the secret code.

Everyone sleeps between 4 and 430 am: the birds, the bugs and salamanders, the raccoons, the skunks and cats. Most people are at home asleep, which means the homeless finally find peace in an entryway or on a park bench. This is the sliver of time during which I wander to work. The streets are asleep. The moon and stars settle into their dawn alignments, the air is crisp and quiet. You remember to breath, and marvel at the fact that you can see your breath.

Somehow every being knows that this is a time for sleep. Somehow every being knows this is a special time if you are awake to experience it. I wander through the streets with a calm disregard for sidewalks, signs, turn lanes, and crosswalks. I pay attention to the sounds you miss when they are obscured by the bustle of awakening.

If you do happen to encounter another person at this time there is an unspoken code: a smile and nod, gestures to the sky, a shared sense of wonder about the world, and a curiosity about the others' reason for being awake at this sleeping hour.