The Problem That Keeps Returning
The less people you talk to on a regular basis, the more emptiness you see ahead of you.
It gets clearer as you grow older. Something like stepping out of a crowd and into an open area. It's refreshing. You see street lights, trees, and cold grass that's too stiff to sway as it used to. You see your breath, because you are the only one breathing. It's quiet. It starts to get dark.
When it's darker, and you turn around, everyone that used to be standing there has already gone home. Now there's nothing but quiet and stillness. Dirt and cigarette butts everywhere. The streets are empty. Big yellow circles without shadows are perfectly illuminating their designated spots of land. It's just you and a few other people that have hung back.
Winnipeg is as flat as a dime. You can't see very far ahead of yourself in any direction. There's no horizon, just a skyline. Occasionally you may go on an overpass or a bridge and be treated to an elevated glimpse, but after a while of living here, you can't tell one place from another. Cars are all the same colours, buildings are old and new, people dress the same. Trees are frozen. You know that soon you're going to have to change the way you dress when you go out. You'll start having to take off your shoes when you enter people's houses, dry off your socks when you get home, blow into your hands to keep your nose warm.
Nothing will die in the winter. You'll see these trees again next year, these cars, and the same people. And especially the buildings, those gigantic, mysterious labyrinths that hold so many secrets. Who knows what happens in any of them?
But when you're at the center of the city, and nobody's around, it's very easy to lose your place. Especially when you know our city well enough to see that it's the same wherever you are.
It gets clearer as you grow older. Something like stepping out of a crowd and into an open area. It's refreshing. You see street lights, trees, and cold grass that's too stiff to sway as it used to. You see your breath, because you are the only one breathing. It's quiet. It starts to get dark.
When it's darker, and you turn around, everyone that used to be standing there has already gone home. Now there's nothing but quiet and stillness. Dirt and cigarette butts everywhere. The streets are empty. Big yellow circles without shadows are perfectly illuminating their designated spots of land. It's just you and a few other people that have hung back.
Winnipeg is as flat as a dime. You can't see very far ahead of yourself in any direction. There's no horizon, just a skyline. Occasionally you may go on an overpass or a bridge and be treated to an elevated glimpse, but after a while of living here, you can't tell one place from another. Cars are all the same colours, buildings are old and new, people dress the same. Trees are frozen. You know that soon you're going to have to change the way you dress when you go out. You'll start having to take off your shoes when you enter people's houses, dry off your socks when you get home, blow into your hands to keep your nose warm.
Nothing will die in the winter. You'll see these trees again next year, these cars, and the same people. And especially the buildings, those gigantic, mysterious labyrinths that hold so many secrets. Who knows what happens in any of them?
But when you're at the center of the city, and nobody's around, it's very easy to lose your place. Especially when you know our city well enough to see that it's the same wherever you are.