I am a prisoner of words unsaid, a master of building walls and of shoving things off into dark corners. I am the great pretender, and probably the most coward person alive. All these years, I've stood up to what I am but I mysteriously break down at night. I let go of what I thought I am; words come out, walls are brought down, everything came back all at once. The night strips me naked of my flaws. The night itself wants me to be honest, if not to the world, to myself. The cold gush of the wind, the sound of leaves falling from trees, oh the night, the night has its mysteries.