βNight still lingers on. Not quite night, not quite dark. Even as the grey of dawn is prickled by stray dots of brightness, day has not yet quite broken: that otherworldly tinge of dusty in-betweenness stubbornly refuses to dissolve, as though as a reminder that a blur, nothing more, is what stands between life and the drift to a permanent sleep. It is the hour of melancholia, when inward clouds seep out and even the most lustrous of colours are painted dullish blue.β
β Panayotis Cacoyannis, from IMAGINING MORE and Other Stories (2026)










