((Thought I'd give this a shot... I just wrote this))
You’d see him every other night, appearing and disappearing in a predictable pattern as the lone figure passed under one yellow street lamp after another in an endless cycle broken only by the existence of a few that were too old and too neglected to function any more. His, for it was surely a he, head always either contemplating the concrete earth before his every step or at other times inspecting the moon above but never looking straight ahead. His life seemed to exist in two planes… Looking down at what he’d done, contemplating his past or either looking up, aspiring for something greater… hoping perhaps, but never… never looking ahead… as if the future were not something he was overly excited about.
The young man would appear occasionally on the dead silent streets of a city caught in the throes of its daily necrotic slumber. That’s how it was in this town that aspired to be a city… a transition that had yet to develop an acceptance for life to go on unabated after 11… This of course meant that the young man who walked along the main streets of the town was only seen by curious passerby who’d crane their necks and try to discern features not often seen, yet those too would soon forget the lonely traveler they’d spy. Then there’d be the occasional person who’d catcall for reasons of their own or some who’d slow down wondering who it was or perhaps they knew someone who’d walk alone at night as well? Either way, it didn’t really matter… they’d all pass him not a single one ever bothering to stop. Stop and ask him if he wanted a lift or even where he was headed and if you wanted to be real obtuse… why he was walking alone.
No, with nothing distinguishable save the dark green back pack slung over one shoulder and the thin almost invisible lines that suggested earplugs nothing could really be seen of the stranger. Even when he raised his head to look at the moon, his hair half covered eyes that were focused on a point that one didn’t seem to be able to see while the deep shadows cast by the yellow street lamps did more than their part to help. He’d just keep walking, streams of sweat occasionally refracting the street lamp when his head would twitch to the side… but apart from that his movement was a steady rhythm, his fingers occasionally strumming in invisible guitar that could be played one handed.
Never a word said, never an eye lifted at anything less than the moon or perhaps the sadder eyes taking in the sight of the homeless sleeping along the sidewalks, dogs that would walk beside him for a while before breaking off to go intercept a hostile canine faction, and the caravan of latched and locked laari’s that would adorn street corners like a wood and metal necklace, the chairs that stood in front of most disappearing for the night. The night would drag ever on, his feet never missing a beat however. The cool night air bringing with it the scents of a town, a city and even a village all rolled up in one… One moment it’d be the slightly pungent but earthy smell of stables, at other’s the smell of grease that coiled through the air from a noodle shop that dared to stay open or a laari who’s business relied upon late night travelers arriving or waiting to leave the city as he passed by the railway station, the blare of a train shattering the cocoon he’d encased himself within via his music. But the blasts of sound would soon die out only to replace his music once more, his invisible barrier between himself and a world he somehow didn’t seem to fit into reasserting its existence plunging him once again into a world of rock while his mind wandered from thoughts philosophical to ones that would do a 6 year old proud. His face however, never reflected his thoughts, always caught in a scowl that only softened at the sight of an injured animal that would limp by or of an epiphany that was only his to tell.
No one really knows where he’d go or where he came from… Well, I do… Its how I know everything I’ve told you so far. Every night, he’d continue to walk the main streets of the city, until a set of flickering and dead lamps would see him disappear altogether down a by lane… a lane that would appear empty as a solitary lamp in the distance highlighted a parked car but nothing in the way of a walking boy…
I know all this because, for reasons that remain my own… I am that wretched boy who traverses the city every now and then. I am the boy who ignores the world around him to live in one of his own design… moreover I am the boy who’d like to disappear along a silent street, fading away like smoke on a breeze.