Night vs day.
Day: People everywhere, nowhere to be alone. The roads are full, more than they should be. You can always hear them, and I am sure smell, and almost taste them too. Oh, look, but the sun is shining strong, the beautiful yellow... piece of shit that burns my eyes full-time, making me see so much I cannot see anymore. Imagine snow, nice, fluffy, cold, yes, but in daylight, a reflector, a mirror of pain, when will that liquefy?
And in summer time, when there is no snow, you might feel positive, look at the sun how it paints the grass and flowers, but it paints you too. You're red, you're hot, you're sweating, there's nowhere to hide, the rays shine everywhere. When did you last drink? Who knows, but it feels like a drop of water landing on your tongue could somehow erase this misery. The more you think about it, the thirstier you get.

Night: Walking through the city, alone. Cool breeze hitting the face, the city lit dim by sodium street lights, but I still wish I could dial them down. There's some white LED lights too, I can see how they're more useful to others, but for me it's a night, I want a night, crave it. In the past they were operated by simple light sensors, you could turn off entire streets by shining a flashlight at them, or so I was told. Not the case anymore.
If only they could all die out. Whether it's orange sodium lights or sharp white LED lights, they're still just trying to bring the day into the night.
The stars. Can't see the stars. Light pollution. Who are the lamps shining for? There's no one anymore. What a waste of power.
But there's still some dark areas.
When my eyes adjust to it, that's great. They feel rested, almost like my eyelids are shut, but I see. I see just enough.
With the lack of light, you realize what it meant. It's not a friend, it's a noise. Loud, persistent distracting noise, whispering right into your brain through the eyes. It whispers, it talks, you step out of the shade it screams, you look at the snow - it shrieks in your brain painfully.
Moon reflects just enough. I can walk comfortably, see the hedgehog and not step on it, yet not enough to see and read the ads.
The light doesn't whisper, I can hear. I can hear the breeze moving leafs, I can hear it move across the fields of grass long overdue for cutting. It was there during the day, but so was the sun, and people and the cars. I was deaf, but now I am not.
And I am alone. Alone in a good way. It feels like the space is mine, the air is mine, it smells better... maybe it's the (lack of) cars.

It gets best when the morning just starts turning up. Still dark, still quiet, still empty and comfortable, but things are starting up at the train station. I can hear a faint soothing roar of idling train long in the distance. I can hear it across the otherwise quiet city.
The sun has risen somewhat, it's illuminating... not yet this part of the planet, but the space above it. Space where the satellites orbit and they reflect the light back down. I can watch the so many dots moving across the still dark sky. I am looking up at them, nobody out to think I am dumb staring at the sky for minutes, of which I am only reminded by the neck pain.
Whistle!
The morning train is ready for departure. The engine sound gets nicer as the train speeds up, then fades away. But it's also a reminder... the day. It's coming, slowly murdering the night.
Light, people, noise, smells... a misery. It's here again, and you are supposed to be happy about it.