Midnight Stroll

Outside. The street; alone, magnificent, and yet, alone. At 1 AM there are just a few parked cars and lone voices that mix together outside. Because there’s always voices, whispers, and singing, even at this hour.

A truck goes by, playing some cumbia for the rest of us. A tanker truck, terrible, massive, the ones that freeze frame the entire street whenever they need to turn a curve. And yet, always happy to share its music with the rest of us. Always joyous.

And with very few degrees on the thermostat I still go outside; because all nights need users, alone or accompanied, and if there’s something I need to distract myself is an early morning that wants to walk next to me, and tell me what it sees. If there’s something I need, is to erase myself for a second.

Everything we’ve lived and gone through is worthless if you don’t have anyone to tell it to in the early morning. Between 1 and 5, when the heart beats without haste, the mind comes clean and the mouth does nothing but theorize, entrust, narrate and move until the earliest of birds begs us to say goodbye and get some rest.

If we deny everything and plead innocent afterwards, it’s nobody’s fault. The morning will take care of it.

There is nothing worse than to tell something to someone who shouldn’t know anything about you, my dear. Whatever you give will never be returned. Books that remain unread, words stuck in our memories, and images hard to erase from our system.

Don’t strive to provide explanations to those who don’t deserve it. The ones who deserve it understand your reasons without asking for explanations. Those who are empathetic enough don’t need further analysis; they will be ready to understand. The truths of the soul are written down in ugly, rushed, wobbly handwriting, with dry ink, surprisedly, innocent, childish.

Don’t wait and don’t despair, my dear; in this life those who look forward will get bored and those who despair go crazy. Maybe in other lives that we haven’t yet lived, we’ll be finally accepted. Maybe we’ll be warmly welcomed, and loved as we always wanted.

Beyond the street, there’s a town square; there’s trees; there’s serenity. One can sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee maybe, one can observe others live their life in public, and take in that breeze that sometimes runs into each and everyone one of us for a quick kiss on the cheek.

There are still children playing outside, like there’s still hope in every single one of us. The games are the same, the traditions remain, the afternoon snacks are still imposed and subsidized. Every once in a while, one can relax in the quietness of being a little bit happier than before.

Let us not hurry, let us not try to belong in dreams that are not for us; or yours; or that do not favor us. We still have parks, streets, and responsibilities, of our own (to fulfill), and of others (to demand they be fulfilled).

Don’t be scared to hear an angry car, honking its horn at this hour, or wheels of a drifting car, looking to arrive, or to escape. We don’t know, and we should never pretend to know everything.

Explanations are not always at hand: in the depths of our subconscious there are still matters that simply exist, that lay there, and what better thing to have than to maintain the mystery of issues that manifest to us without even asking for them.

May life be your mystery. May you avoid discovering it all. May you not achieve it. Let the magic of ignorance make you enjoy without worrying, and may you not occupy yourself with not knowing, or be stimulated by what is beyond. Do not be afraid of the early morning, or enjoying it from the outside. It’s your best partner. It will stay with you if you ask for it. At least, until the sun comes out again.