[post transcribed from a paper journal]
And so, as one day twists and turns and flips about desperately attempting to avoid the chilling grip of the coming night. As winter approaches, the vigor of the day, fighting as it has for the last six months against the night, is now dissipating and growing weaker. The night; cold, clear, crisp, and elegant; will grow longer and longer, colder and colder, darker and darker as the days become too weak and submissive to have much sway against the night except to make an indirect, cold light.
The days seem hopeless and unwilling to make the effort to appear again tomorrow, and as a sickly child would, grow paler every day; weaker. Knowing, as it always does, that winter is its death, the days make a final attempt at warmth whilst the night grows colder, taking frozen bites from the weakened heels of the morning. No longer will night allow itself to be the submissive partner in their ongoing relationship, but as the night works towards equality, the day sees itself losing power and gives up completely; still part of the relationship, but no longer making an effort for their combined success.