The Omega Mup
When you’re out walking at 1 in the morning, it’s easy to imagine you’re the last person in the world. The streets are pretty much empty, and the only clues that other people are still alive are the occasional far-off traffic noises and an illuminated window. Stray cats watch you with glowing eyes, wondering if you’re going to be a source of food, one way or another. Houses you’ve driven past a hundred times look different, more personal, more…real. Rain-glistened streets and pale streeetlights give the histories of each house a new and somehow important new meaning: what happened here today? yesterday? five years ago? a hundred?
A late-night walk will give you what you bring to it. For some, it will reinforce a sense of mortality. The glow of a cigarette on a porch two blocks away is a thug awaiting prey. Branches scraping in the wind are a gang hurriedly approaching. For others, wind and rain and solitude will strengthen a sense of uselessness, of unchanging tides of humanity and time. For a select few, the late night wander brings renewed peace. All’s right that can be, and the stars and moon and clouds in the sky are symbols of hope.