You know, I love the city at night. The time when most people go to sleep, the city puts on its black dress and takes you on journeys. Tonight I'm walking through ''Meirole'' the main street. There is no translation, the meaning got lost in the obscurity of day.
The city lights, illuminate the path of everyone who chooses to walk it, but it's something more than that. It's repetitively magnificent, the lights seem to stretch on forever. Never loosing their suave, their beautiful assurance. Every now and then a single light flickers, but that's it. The flickering signals the end of a bulb, and yet I feel as though the next bulb will have an even shorter time to shine, but it's not my place to judge it, is it now?
The flip flops on my feet are a bit uncomfortable but the lights don't care they keep leading me, pulling deeper into the city, and frankly I don't mind. As long as these legs move, I will as well. I decide to take off my shoes, I get a few weird glances but thankfully not many people are around. The urban feel of the city is finally taking form. The orderly lights from before are getting shaved off one by one. Replaced by colored lights chaotically sprayed on the sides of buildings. And again, this urban chaos is so lovable I can't help myself but indulge in it. The shadows weaving around, seeking comfort from their rejection. I welcome them as well, for shadows are just a different spin on the city lights. And romantically they can't exist without each other, when day dawns that romanticism will be erased away by bustling crowds, and the eternal light bulb we call the sun.
The lights now are fewer in number, but they lovingly embrace me promising to shield me from the shadows it so desperately needs. The promises, soothe anyone who come within its protective embrace. The city lights are like the mother of the city. Kind and forgiving yet, strong and independent.
