A Cold Nightwalk

I couldn't stay home last night. I just wanted to get out there and do something. I'm not a homebody anymore. I'm not a person to sit behind a screen anymore. I need to be out there and seeing and doing. My love for the streets never ends. There's always something to be seen or something to capture, even down the streets travelled a hundred times already. Now, I don't nightwalk as much as I'd like. Particularly during summer when it's still hot and the sun sets at such late times. But these cold winter nights are something else. A bit unforgiving with the chilly winds, but the emptier streets than usual make for some truly atmospheric images.

I've missed that time of year where faces are buried into coats and scarves. Where people are wrapped up and seemingly a bit more recluse. Where the streets open up as if they're mine only. I walked through little courtyards, sat at benches in quiet old Soviet residential spaces. I felt the cold on my face, the dimly lit environments where stray dogs sniffed around. I felt the peace. I felt the cold of the air filling my lungs. I would continue to walk from space to space to find somewhere to sit and just think about things. To reflect on where I'm heading and where I am now. Here and there stopping to admire the beauty of the world around.

I avoided the main streets as much as I could, but even there the cars felt quieter than usual. Areas that are usually populated by people had nobody in sight. Vending machines in their rows left vacant. The streets lit up by a series of neon looking lights from the various businesses that remained open. A few shops here and there, though even offices had their lights off at this time of night. I rarely walked by another person for much of the walk. The odd blur of a person would walk the opposite direction. There was no time to take note of them, no light to see their faces. No question in mind of who they were or where they were heading. Much like their own lack of interest in my own direction. I would walk down streets that felt colder than others. Some had unique architecture. Some felt historic.

This wasn't like my usual walks though. I wasn't thinking of the location I was in, I wasn't thinking of that Soviet past and how people lived here much like I usually do. I felt stuck in my own mind. In this motivated sense of creative longing. That I had to be outside to capture things and create. The feeling that I had been dragging a little bit as of late and that it was time to stop being a little bitch and start working a bit harder. To realise my dreams by really pursuing what I want and not waiting any longer. I've been doing things no other person is doing in this city. I've been putting effort where the industry lacks. I'm just not putting myself out there nearly enough to get the traction it needs to thrive.

I returned home feeling like I could've stayed in those streets for the entire night. Ignoring the redness and numbness of the hands from the cold. Ignoring the increasing breeze that put chills through me. I thought of the upcoming shoot I have and how I only managed to obtain it from taking action. I knew that to some degree this was the start of a new era for me. A change of character. Motion for the creativity to flourish.