Glebe. (Sydney, October 2009.) My roommates and I went walking after midnight, I barefoot and in pajamas. A smaller bridge, the harbor. Two of them were from Germany and one from France. They were going to be here much longer than I was. I walked ahead of them, or behind? I didn't keep pace with them, because I wasn't interested in what they were talking about.
Earlier we had been up on the roof and I remembered I don't like beer and was dead tired anyways. As I am now.
I have always been enamored of the shadows that streetlights cast through trees any time of the year but winter. In Glebe. In Wheaton. I found an unlocked bike and no one noticed the honey stain on the carpet, and I made off with it. But there was another night when it was foggy? Or? And rode through the shadows of still-clad trees. Winter wasn't even a scent yet.
Almost everything I remember from that semester was night. How did that happen?
Magical things happen at night.
ReplyDeletenight is best
ReplyDeletethis feels like a dream, a noctivagant dream. I love it.
ReplyDeletepinkapplecore and her - So with you.
ReplyDeleteJenica - I had to look that word up. I love it.