What a wonderful way to spend a winter’s night.
The dark and mood-filled pieces by And One in my ears, cold and harsh wind in my face and the living, acting city around me. Bright, moving lights reflected from wet tarmac, brighter, static lights blinking in and out of existence as I trot along the various downtown districts and the staedy, gloomy glow of an overcast sky lit by the half-light reaching it from below. From where I am.
People all around me, even in the dead of night. Laughing, scowling, sober, ineberated, young and old, alone and in gropus, packs and circles of close-knit friendship. Even the almost freezing drizzle can’t put a stop to the dynamism flowing out of every nook and cranny.
And while Steve croons words of love, lust and excess into my ears, I look up in one glorious moment and see something that defines the area I call home: A big blast of red light hitting the sky and bathing me and everyone else and a great part of the surrounding cities with the glow of industrial output. Molten steel drowning out the darkness of night.