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The only light breaking through the darkness of the night is the pulsating glow of the alarm clock. Every second feels like a drumbeat, making time seemingly audible. Almost like a leaky water tap, instant by instant dripping into the sink before vanishing in the drain. Only a blink of the eye interrupts this hypocritical clockwork of monotony every now and then. Like always, lying in bed and trying to convince the night to pass, passing on the silence…

Not sure if silence even exists in a metropolis like New York. Every single window seems to watch the rapid stream in the street of the city. If every single person would be a candle, the stream would be gleaming furiously. Only at night, when fatigue sweeps the streets you seem to hear the silence, just the artificial light all over the place making some noise…

Viewing cities from above can be a dizzying experience – in both senses of the word. I like watching streets awakening and seeing them slowly filling with life. A pleasure only excelled by the experience of already being in a place before this happens – capturing a tiny island of pleasant solitude… I decide to step into the street in search of this tiny hideaway before the sun even peeps through the clouds and the first rays seem to walk the wire, the magnificent tightrope called horizon…

The door clunks shut behind me and its creaky sound seems to roll out like a carpet in the stairway. The echo multiplies my steps and makes my shadow chasing me downstairs. Outside I suck in the air like someone gulping down a glass of water after an exhausting exercise. No matter what direction, I decide to keep straight on and walk towards the day.

Whenever my body is in motion my mind seems to settle. Maybe it’s the opposite of what happens at night when my mind is going for stroll once I lie down. I keep walking through streets that seem to burst with emptiness. Only a few poor souls who call the streets their home almost melt into the grey of the surroundings – washed out clothes in washed out streets.

My mind tries to keep pace with my gaze, which is rambling the streets without pause. However, soon they will rest. I will be standing at this spot where the day is picking me up – when the sun is rising and my mood is following its course…

Early morning in the streets of New York

untitled by Scott Davies

Categories: Stories

Comments (2)

  • Brad Bernard . March 24, 2014 . Reply

    Incredibly descriptive writing. You’ve really brought me into your experience. I can almost hear the music of silence. Well done, Oliver.

    • (Author) Oliver . March 24, 2014 . Reply

      Hi Brad, thanks for stopping by and glad to see the piece somewhat captivated you! However, I have to admit that this piece is from my “IMAGinE words” series, so basically storytelling based on a photograph, trying to create a few “written images” in the readers mind…
      Just let me know in case you would like to see one of your (travel) photos turned into a wee story as well. Take care and speak soon!

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