January 23rd.

I always want to remember that night.

Driving into an unknown and dead downtown; turning down into a lane of empty on-coming traffic in search of ink for your bones.

City lights dim and I can almost feel the pulse of civilization dying into a whisper.

Red walls and a damaged shop but the beards, ink and humour make us feel at home in a whole new world.

You are smiling straight from in the inside. The sun set hours ago but now, it’s in your smile.

Inside of a hive, guns buzzing.

There’s ink on your bones, small changes but a new energy. A reminder now always in the twist of a wrist.

I always want to remember that night, electric and new.