Tuesday, April 14, 2009


Every time I drive downtown, I can't help but notice the contrast between daytime and nighttime. It's like after sunset, a veil is lifted, and the true beauty of the city can finally be seen. Sure, the city can be appealing in vivid sunshine too, and yes, the night contains crime and ugly things as well. But I don't know; there's just something about a city at night that seems haunting and magical, and nothing else really compares to it.

So, I started writing this a while ago. Browsing through my old Word files, I stumbled across it tonight, and did a bunch of editing. It's still not perfect but I wanted to share it anyway. Lately all I've written are essays for school, and so revisiting something non-academic was refreshing.


Navigating the city streets, I inhale chemicals and impatience. The factories emit their plumes, and sulphur mingles with vanilla as I sip my latte. I accelerate. Horns honk, tires squeal, and I narrowly miss another disaster. Death hovers in the next lane, but I pass it yet again. Construction scaffolding threatens to break and crumble and thunder down upon progress. I desire nothing but quick escape only so I can return, later, to a different world…to a tipsy twilight intoxicated by magic that bubbles forth from a simmering cauldron beneath the ground. The vapor slowly rises as the setting sun infuses its heat into every shadow; until headlights become roving spotlights and streetlights become suspended chandeliers. Couples linger hand-in-hand beneath tall ladders to the sky. Gliding across the city streets, I inhale cologne and passion and life. I pause. Moonlight gently caresses me, and so do you, and I desire nothing but this forever.