november
I walked on that night. I walked until the loneliness set in. The night was damp, and the streetlights stretched themselves into halos. I walked with my hands in my coat pockets. And I walked straight.
It was a few days after Halloween; those few days when the world stays indoors, ashamed of consenting to the rape of demons. Silence was a dear friend that night, and slow sirens could be heard wailing from their isolated realms. I was not a part of the world that night. I am still not a part of this world.
The sidewalk steadily flowed under my feet as I unconsciously counted my steps through my breath. I was coming or, going that particular night from a small café now miles away. As I stepped out onto the avenue I became a prisoner of time, a captive of nature, of the ever-present world around me. I was marched on that night. Paraded on my own accord to a sad boulevard of alienation.
I slowed the movement of cracked concrete beneath my soles. I came to a halt in the shadow of a tree with leaves half fallen exposing its skeleton and moss. I had wondered what tree would ever aspire to sacrifice its beauty on a city street. I realized; I had never been there before. As I stood there with my hands in my coat pockets, I watched my breath collaborate with the lazy fog.
The shadows shout from the architecture on my left. The edifice seems to wrap me in an uncomfortable blanket of darkness. Pumpkins on steps wink at me in their commencement of decomposition.
I step out of the shadow. A car breezes by, almost inaudible through the heavy dampness. For a second I wonder where the car is going. I wonder where I am going. I wonder where I am. I had never been there before, but it was there, and I was there, and there were trees, and shadows, and lights.
I spun around slowly, breathing carefully. So many places existed that I had never seen, never heard of. I had no trouble believing that the world existed albeit I had never seen the majority of it.
I was lost on that night. As I stepped into the light, I walked around the tree and balanced on the granite curb. I sat on the dampness and starred across at the streetlamps. I took my hands out of my coat pockets and rubbed them together. A lamp three blocks down the avenue flickered its illumination. I inhaled and drank the moisture out of the air.
Out of my solitude, I found solace in the lamplight. Comforted that there was an abundance of light reserved for me on that lonely street. I identified with the streetlamps, extending themselves.
I rose up. I paused and acknowledged the three streetlamps with whom I had convened on that desolate avenue; the three lamps with one light. I turned with the light, against the darkness of the concrete habitats, beneath the tree.
I walked with my hands at my sides. Extending myself against the night. I walked, embracing the camaraderie found in loneliness, in light. I walked on that night.
It was a few days after Halloween; those few days when the world stays indoors, ashamed of consenting to the rape of demons. Silence was a dear friend that night, and slow sirens could be heard wailing from their isolated realms. I was not a part of the world that night. I am still not a part of this world.
The sidewalk steadily flowed under my feet as I unconsciously counted my steps through my breath. I was coming or, going that particular night from a small café now miles away. As I stepped out onto the avenue I became a prisoner of time, a captive of nature, of the ever-present world around me. I was marched on that night. Paraded on my own accord to a sad boulevard of alienation.
I slowed the movement of cracked concrete beneath my soles. I came to a halt in the shadow of a tree with leaves half fallen exposing its skeleton and moss. I had wondered what tree would ever aspire to sacrifice its beauty on a city street. I realized; I had never been there before. As I stood there with my hands in my coat pockets, I watched my breath collaborate with the lazy fog.
The shadows shout from the architecture on my left. The edifice seems to wrap me in an uncomfortable blanket of darkness. Pumpkins on steps wink at me in their commencement of decomposition.
I step out of the shadow. A car breezes by, almost inaudible through the heavy dampness. For a second I wonder where the car is going. I wonder where I am going. I wonder where I am. I had never been there before, but it was there, and I was there, and there were trees, and shadows, and lights.
I spun around slowly, breathing carefully. So many places existed that I had never seen, never heard of. I had no trouble believing that the world existed albeit I had never seen the majority of it.
I was lost on that night. As I stepped into the light, I walked around the tree and balanced on the granite curb. I sat on the dampness and starred across at the streetlamps. I took my hands out of my coat pockets and rubbed them together. A lamp three blocks down the avenue flickered its illumination. I inhaled and drank the moisture out of the air.
Out of my solitude, I found solace in the lamplight. Comforted that there was an abundance of light reserved for me on that lonely street. I identified with the streetlamps, extending themselves.
I rose up. I paused and acknowledged the three streetlamps with whom I had convened on that desolate avenue; the three lamps with one light. I turned with the light, against the darkness of the concrete habitats, beneath the tree.
I walked with my hands at my sides. Extending myself against the night. I walked, embracing the camaraderie found in loneliness, in light. I walked on that night.