Peter Broderick & Clint Mansell // Not At Home (Last Night) 

I’m beginning to love San Francisco in the winter. I love how twilight seems to creep across the city at 5 o'clock, how everything becomes tinged with shades of blue and sadness. It’s both unsettling and beautiful, all at the same time. 

The city just breathes a little more slowly during the winter, with the headlights from cars crawling across the pavement, shadows painted everywhere. I love the quiet fantasies that the encroaching darkness brings, inspired by the strings of light that adorn these tree-lined streets. 

During this time of the year I am always cold, curling up into myself with sad songs and stories. Of course, being loved makes it so that I never truly feel alone, though the knowledge of Chris’ absence does sometimes disappoint me. But as we do with all hurdles, I know we will rise above. 

I suspect I’m beginning to love the winter because though everything around me falls slowly asleep and dies, I know that we are still alive, still in love, separated only by a trivial distance. There is so much warmth to be had in this.