the colour of 2am light.

it's not really a colour you can name. not blue, not orange, not grey — just this weird washed-out amber that sinks into everything after midnight. the kitchen wall goes from white to something i'd call "off-milk" if i were being generous. the window turns into a dark mirror, and whatever lamp i have on makes a puddle of light instead of a cone.

everything softens. edges stop being edges. my phone screen becomes the brightest thing in the room and suddenly i'm squinting at a canvas that looked fine five minutes ago.

the orange i used on the left side of that sketch turns into a dusty rust, like it's been sitting in a room full of old books. that's the one that gets me — i painted it at noon, when the colour was bright and stupid and i thought i'd fix it later. but under this light it's not wrong, it's just honest about something i didn't intend. the rest of the palette follows: warm greys, earthy greens, a white that reveals itself as faint peach-grey.

it's a specific heaviness — like the light itself is tired. it doesn't land on things, it settles. pools. makes everything feel underwater. i've tried mixing it a couple times, that particular 2am glow, but i always end up with something too warm or too artificial. maybe it's just the colour a room makes when your eyes are starting to invent their own light.