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In this darkness, it becomes harder and harder to see, and the other senses take over. It is quiet. Or is it? Isn't there something moving? Could it be an animal? Was it the sound of a twig snapping? What is it that scratching, scurrying, rustling and creaking? Is it merely the stream in the distance, the wind in the trees and our own footsteps and breathing that we can hear?
Or is there something else out here? The shadows are no longer what they are purporting to be. There's the smell of earth and wet forest. Mist. The air feels cold and slightly damp against the skin. The birds are beginning to calm down. Or are they? It is at this moment that reality fades away, and the fairytales take over.
This is the hour of the wood spirit. It lurks in the shadows and then observes us as we wander deeper into the forest. The birds in the forest observe all this from a distance. They fly between the trees and keep an eye on the adventures of the forest. This is the kingdom of the night birds, until the sun rises and the birds of light take over.
Ida Lovli Hidle
"...At twilight, this darkness rises ever higher in the sky, until the entire visible part of the atmosphere has entered the earth's shadow. Then twilight ends and night begins."