HOME ~~~ NEXT

I love to walk at night.

The peacefull dankness of it all is overwhelming. The lack of civilization, in all its civility. There is stands. The fear, the knowledge that they rest of the world could have died in your absence and you wouldn't even know. Tonight, maybe it was different, maybe I was different. It was wonderful. I heard a man coughing tonight. I'm sure he noticed me. I normally wouldn't say anything, but he was coughing, almost begging for me to reach out. Welcoming me into his world. And as usual, I said nothing. Kept walking in my ignorance.

I enjoy my ignorance.

The street lights made the road take on an epherial glow, like a body of water, inviting me to swim.

And so I jumped in.

The road hit me with a force unknown and unexpected to my tired body. I looked up, and the wind caught my hair. I heard a distant cough, regained my composure, and came back to the beach of the sidewalk. I continued to walk towards my school. It's better when nobody's been there for days. It has a solitude to it. I love the building as much as I hate it's contents. The halls, not yet cleaned for the new term, look as they did when I left them. Cluttered, dirty, but they look comfortable. I would hate to go to a school with a competent janitorial staff. I find a mooring in a doorway, sheltered from the brisk but warm wind. It's too warm for January. I miss snow. We had it, then in melted away. There never was enough to appreciate it. Snow angels in the road, it wasn't meant to be. I lit another cigarette, scolding myself and promising to quit, again, for the 17th time in the last 2 years. The security cameras monitered my behavior, though they will never be watched, most likely, unless I break a window or something to that effect. The cigarette tasted of chemicals, and I wished I had bought my usual brand, rather than caving to peer pressure. Only half the pack left. If I'm smart, I won't buy more. I don't really have time to smoke in my life. A car drives by, rippling the lake of my road. Lawrence Avenue East will always be my life line.

I only wish it went further.

As warm as it was, the chill was setting in, so I headed west, towards my home, towards the city. The temptation to wait for the next bus always nudges me as I pass the bus shelter at Centennial. I never have, though, not on these walks, got on the bus, and probably never will, for knowledge that there probably isn't anywhere better to be than right where I am. The coughing man was gone when I walked by again. I wished I had talked to him. He may have been interesting, and now I'll never know. I hate those missed opportunities. If he had been anything dangerous, he probably would have followed me. But no, he had returned to his house, as I was returning to mine. I walked against the light, throwing my cigarette butt on my lifeline, my river. It bounced and sputtered on the wet pavement.

Or had I looked, it would have.

I continued on. The house across the street from me on the corner had it's Christmas tree all lit up. I found that odd, for 3am, or I would have, had a car not just left the driveway. Latenight visitors in the new year. I wish I had somewhere to go, other than home, but I don't know the people that live in the house on the corner, beyond their last name… And even that has been forgotten. I kept walking. Centennial Road, my street for all my life, never has had that life that Lawrence always has. It's dead and stagnant. The No Exit sign at the corner is symbolic.

I'll never get out of it.

But I continued on my journey home. There is a ravine at the end of the road. For some reason, I've always been afraid of it at night… I smoked my first cigarette there, when I was all of 14. I've seen small red foxes there, and raccons, and squirrels. We never see the foxes here anymore though. There used to be a family of them that lived on my neighbours lawn, but I'm sure they were poisoned by the public health officials, risk of rabies and all. Not that anybody ever got rabies, just the risk, it was worth not letting them live. I kept walking. At the gate of my house, I paused to open and close it in the silence that has been retained by the night. My feet made no noise as they touched the ground, and I paused at my front door, to breath in the night air one last time. It smelled fertile and stagnant. Ready for life too early, as the winter has still yet to hit. I opened the door, saying my dogs' name quietly so they wouldn't bark. I took off my shoes, being meticulous in their placement - exactly where they were before I left, and headed downstairs. The house was exactly as I had left it, it's such a relief when it is. The one time it wasn't was when my mother took the car and went to find me. She didn't, I was safe that time, as I was this time. I left my coat on the floor of my bedroom, my cigarettes in my drawer and my lighter by my incense burner. I sat down, and began this. And that is all.

Insignifigant, isn't it?

Unless you think about it.

HOME ~~~ NEXT