It's too early to talk

I've just finished re-writing an essay for my Politics course. The title is:

To what extent are immigration and asylum policies the main reason for the growth in electoral support for extreme right parties?

I wrote a good draft of it about a month ago but had decided that the draft was simply too badly written to hand in. So I've gone through it all over again and rewritten the whole thing, with all the references re-jigged and everything sorted. I sat down again to work on it at 10 PM after looking at other work all day, and then I worked through the night.
I'm on the top floor of our house and the rain is buffeting the Victorian structure like it's trying to push the whole building over. I feel like a bubble of light amidst the darkness. Everyone else is asleep and I'm all alone typing away in the sodium-swathed brightness.

And just as I finished, as I completed the last section of tedious and longwinded formatting, a song came on over my headphones. Thomas Newman's theme to American Beauty with its calm stillness and tranquility caught my mood and now I'm sitting in the brightness, surrounded by wind and rain, listening to the sounds of beauty.