Artistic me: Stepping out through the doorway, you realize that your Beatles and Fleece hoodies are no match for the blustery wind. Once again, it’s a cold night. Just another trough in the fluctuation of the temperature lately. No rhyme or reason to it, but then, where does any of that ever come into play?
Outside, on the icy ground, each step becomes a mystery and a puzzle, care placed into each motion. Every pace finds itself a melancholic exercise, yet still somehow redeemed by the divinely inspired beauty of small white snowflakes drifting down lazily from the sky. For a moment, that beauty is disrupted by a gust of wind, from which you have no escape, even as you shield your face. But as soon as it came on, the wind disappears again, leaving little specks of crystalline wonder to descend in front of the cold and pale fluorescence of the streetlights, each one becoming its own pinprick of light.
The wonder of the evening disappears briefly when a taxi passes by. What could they be doing out at this time? you wonder. But then, you’re out, so why should they not be? Then another car passes you by. And another. And another. For a time, it’s as if it’s business as usual again on the streets, regardless of the time. The world isn’t some place of marvel, it’s a clockwork machine with people going about their business regardless of the hour. A group passes you by, perhaps leaving from a party. Charming topics of conversation, you think as you eavesdrop, your mood sullied by the witless and uncouth topics discussed.
But then, once everyone has faded off in the distance, you see the snow falling again, the clouds glowing above, and you hear the powder crunching under each footfall. Hands in your pockets, you quietly listen to the sounds of your own motion mix with the musings of Alan Watts set to the electronic noise of John Boswell, passing through your earbuds.
A fifteen minute journey, a path of introspection and discovery. It comes to a close when you near the door, part of you thankful to be done with the danger of the ice, ready to betray you at every step. Before going inside, though, you look up one last time to see the calm and serene loveliness of a winter’s evening turned morning. And at least, you think, grinning as you step indoors, I didn’t slip and fall.