“I have been one acquainted with the night.”
Robert Frost’s insomniac refrain has often come to mind these past few weeks. At the end of March, after months of searching for a suitable venue, I started a quiet overnight job at a transitional housing facility which allows me to commit more of my time to writing. My official duties are minimal, requiring mainly that I be awake in case one of our residents needs me, or in the less likely event that something more urgent should unfold. The arrangement frees me to put several hours each night into writing while still fulfilling my professional obligations.
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