“The French called this time of day 'l'heure bleue.' To the English it was 'the gloaming.' The very word 'gloaming' reverberates, echoes - the gloaming, the glimmer, the glitter, the glisten, the glamour - carrying in its consonants the images of houses shuttering, gardens darkening, grass-lined rivers slipping through the shadows. During the blue nights you think the end of the day will never come. As the blue nights draw to a close (and they will, and they do) you experience an actual chill, an apprehension of illness, at the moment you first notice; the blue light is going, the days are already shortening, the summer is gone... Blue nights are the opposite of the dying of the brightness, but they are also its warning.”

“Can you evade the dying of the brightness?Or do you evade only its warning?Where are you left if you miss the message the blue nights bring?”

“Nights and days came and passedAnd summer and winterand the rain.And it was good to be a little Island.A part of the worldand a world of its ownAll surrounded by the bright blue sea.”

“nights and days came and passedand summer and winterand the sun and the windand the rain.and it was good to be a little islanda part of the worldand a world of its ownall surrounded by the bright blue sea.”

“And who are you?" cried one agape, Shuddering in the gloaming light. "I know not" said the second Shape, "I only died last night.”

“It is early, early morning. It's that time when it's still dark but you know the day is coming. Blue is bleeding through black. Stars are dying.”