“Why do you like the night so much?” the darkness whispered, crippling on the little boy’s back. “For the moon doesn’t judge.” the little boy answered. He danced around his room with a pillow in his hand and a hairbrush on another. “Judge?” the darkness inquired back. “Yes, judge.” the boy answered as he continued his performance. “Under the moon, I can be whoever and whatever I want,” he added. Without a doubt, the boy was free under the moon. He danced till dawn and sang his emotions out. Under the moon, the little boy could be anything he wanted. A prince, an actor, a playwright, you name it! And it, he shall become. The moon was his solace, the refuge from the storm called the sun. For the sun comes with morning and, the morning comes with reality. Time is ticking. He knows this, the darkness knows this, and the moon knows this. But for now, all the little boy can do is dance. “Now, let me ask you this.” the boy suddenly stops and faces the darkness. “Why do you like the night?”