Monday, May 11, 2015
There's comfort in the 3am stillness, the emptiness of the roads, the flashing yellow traffic lights, the warm night air. There's no pressure from compounding traffic, or pedestrians, no sounds of traffic droning on over the music, the lights blur into neon infused trails of post-modern light pollution. Patches where street lights have flickered out pool and collect darkness and hide the city, the highway becomes an endless menagerie of night owls and truckers occasionally set against the tree line. The washed out dimness hides facial features, imperfections, headlights cast shadows upon nose and eyes where flesh is bounded by rising and falling action. The car comes to a stop in the driveway and the only sound is a faint breeze and the wind chimes from the house behind ours. The night air breathes onto me as I walk inside, letting me know that there is safety and comfort in the now 4am stillness.