Stuck my head out of my skylight

The sun's just gone down. A dark yet vivid rainbow haze filters up from the horizon, and a few grey streaks of dark cloud smear the sky like the marks of dropped paintbrush. The last bright reflections of the jetstreams begin to fade. A raft of thicker cloud whips up from the skyline, like sand-dunes in a storm.
Venus, the Evening Star, glitters a pale gold at the turquoise band of the spectrum. A barely visible arc, the thin chresent moon appears hidden in the yellow.

Window locks clunks open. An influx of cool air fills the room. Arms crossed, resting on the wooden frame. Neck craned. Breathe. The air is chilled by the impending night, a slight breeze stirs it. The suburban panorama reaches far.
Office block windows shine like distant stars; the pulsating red neon lights of the radio tower, a plasmatic nebula. The dull growl of distant traffic, the chirruping of birds as their artificial suns buzz on overhead. Breathe.

Breathe deeply.

The air is smooth, intoxicating. Scents of fog, of distant cloud, of recent rain and dampened tarmac; Of grit, and fuel; Of brick, stone and mortar; Of ash, and smoke, and aging trees as they respire; Cut grass, compost, the hill range to the East; Fur, metal, rubber and plastic.

All so thick, yet dilute, all so moist. Diffused, condensed, distilled and combined. They swirl, like the throng of life the closing darkness conceals.
That air smells of lovers, of groups of friends, of working plebs settling to rest. I can sense the dates, the sex, the music, the parties and the pub crawls, the TV dinners and sitcom repeats.
It's all there, and it feels incredible. Despite all I know of the world, it causes me to ask the question: Does the society we live in, for the most part... work? Are people, in general, fairly happy? I cast these thoughts aside, and enjoy the uncorrupted bliss of watching humanity go about its inconsequential business.

The night; It smells of opportunity. Opportunities, I silently promise, I'll one day take myself.

And apart from the physical sensation, that's why I love those first deep gulps of polluted evening air so much. It reminds me how far I've still got to go.

OH WELL BACK TO REVISION

If you are currently in posession of a door (and are upwind from your local sewage works), I would highly recommend opening your nearest habitational orifice and indulging yourself in a little gaseous exchange/shallow philosophy come nightfall.

Seriously, I love evening air. I am deeply aroused by it, on both an intellectual and physical level.

Wil, stop taking notes.