Walking

I went for a walk today. A night walk, my favorites. I have always felt an odd sort of attraction to the night. Shops close, street lights flicker into importance, cars and pedestrians thin and sometimes disappear altogether. The world seems different. Intimate, in a sense.

During the day there is a sense of errand. The sun shines and with every degree reminds its worshippers of the passing moments, hours. Feet trickle in and out of shops, banks, gas stations. Used coins and bills exchange hands, plastic cards swish and swipe in such determined rhythm. Daytime is for errands.

The sun retires, though. He is tired. He has rushed man along, he has earned his rest after his day of errands. The moon is less rushed. He simply peruses the town. Not so much to buy, the shops are closed. Not many to rush, as most are resting comfortably in their own beds. Except for me and few others.

There is a serene comfort in the night. Walking the resting streets, peering in the darkened windows. Nodding with familiar recognition to the few strangers who share your path. This intimacy has always sung to me. The world in its purest element. Resting.