flâneur

On Walking Alone at Night - Image Journal

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I ADMIT THAT WHEN I WALK ALONE, at night, I’m headed nowhere. But for all the world knows I’m on my way to a glittering party, all color and confetti; or to an elaborate dinner, the oblong table covered with thick cloth and the candlelight catching the rims of wineglasses and the tines of forks; or to a bar where I will drink and shout to be heard; or to the home of a friend, where all this time they have been waiting for me to arrive. Having walked at all times of day, I can assure you that nighttime offers the best walking there is—the trees cutting sharp shapes against the sky; the lights in houses coming on, shedding light on lawns that prickle with grass. Even though I am done with my work for the day, I sometimes find myself hurrying anyway, arms and legs swinging, my whole torso inclined forward as though a hand on my back were urging me forward, on to the next thing, and the next thing after that— If you saw me and asked me where I was going, I would stare blankly for a moment

I ADMIT THAT WHEN I WALK ALONE, at night, I’m headed nowhere. But for all the world knows I’m on my way to a glittering party, all color and confetti; or to an elaborate dinner, the oblong table covered with thick cloth and the candlelight catching the rims of wineglasses and the tines of forks; or to a bar where I will drink and shout to be heard; or to the home of a friend, where all this time they have been waiting for me to arrive. Having walked at all times of day, I can assure you that nighttime offers the best walking there is—the trees cutting sharp shapes against the sky; the lights i

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