Alex Pangia

Becoming The Sun

Sometimes when I wake up before the sunrise it can feel like the world is ending. Or has ended. Of course, I can feel all of my toes on the cold floor at the side of my bed. However, as I reanimate, the passive void of this predawn hour feels more familiar, more homely to me than the usual stir of the buzzing business hours in the city. It’s an eerie stillness, a nothing before a something, a calm before a storm.