There is nothing fresher and purer than a morning. When you walk an empty street at the crack of dawn, when the whole world is a hopeful shade of grey, you can feel the freshness in the air, the dampness on your lips, the cold air on you eyelids. It feels as though the world has been rid of its sins and it is starting new all over again. There is something about the light that makes you feel happy, even on the greyest of days, even as the rain falls. The silence is so soothing, the raindrops seem so harmless and innocent, their drops are the only sound that fills your ears, each one feels different, you notice and appreciate each drop as it splashes on your face. The air smells so clean, the world is so refreshed, it refreshes you, it makes you feel so calm inside that for once all you can do is take it all in. You can feel at one with the world, you can appreciate it and feel in awe of it, yet feel part of it. There is noting fresher and purer than a morning in the countryside.
The city never sleeps. The morning in the city is not a morning, it is a continuation of the night before, and the day before that, and the week before that. The world does not feel new, it feels tired, mundane, life is a chore. As you walk the streets, you do not feel alone, you are not alone. There will always be someone who has been awake before you, walked the street before you. All you can feel is the crushed sense of nature, hear the engine of a car in the distance and the rush of the sewers below you. It feels like the world has not gone to sleep, it just hasn't stopped. And the rain, the rain feels like tears, tears of sadness and loneliness. There is nothing more lonely that the city, where you are just another number, another face. There is nothing more depressing than being surrounded by people but feeling completely alone. The city never sleeps, yet it is never really awake either. The city does not live.