Stills of the Night

Every step on the warmth-radiating asphalt felt like a dance. She was practically floating through the streets, barely awake. Calm, quiet noise was coming from the radio station in someone’s bedroom, another stranger who could not sleep because of life, and from the smoothed dialogues of late kitchen talks over golden night lamps, more strangers who could not find rest. Maybe it was the heat which lied heavily even at this time. 

The city was patched at night; broken neon signs flickered above people leaning against the doorway in linoleum-floored shops, letting warm breezes fill their lungs while flicking their cigarettes. Some were gathering under the bright lights behind the shop’s counter, nodding politely as she passed. They all existed, in their own pace and with their own space, recharging after the daytime’s crowds. 

Everything stayed the same at night, as if all found peace and started to breathe. Limbs that had worked heavily through the rush ached distantly. Paper boxes with green and red stripes stacked away memories in the corner. Washed out cotton cloths covering the window of another individual bothered by the wind, forgotten soda bottles and jackets and cameras on the balcony – all witnesses of daily, casual moments spent only a few hours prior. Tired alleys with only laundry and plants hanging out, and loved ones embracing in sleep. Grass reaching through stones and curious cat noses inspecting life. More black and white cats minding their own business as people do by day. Everything blending in with the dark green and blue colour tones, starry skies seen through the houses’ space. 

And she was walking through all of it, feet sore from a long day and the tote bag hanging heavily on her shoulder, yet walking seemed to be the easiest thing in the world. Wandering through the still night, catching glimpses into people’s lives, her face lightened by bright and colourful signs, and dancing to the most beautiful sounds of the night.