The night city is not the day city, though they share the same streets, the same alleys. Light becomes a commodity.
The men of the night city, free from the day of park-sleep and bench-sleep, daylight indignities of filth, of squalor, the sordid shame of open begging in the face of bottomless scorn.
They come into their own then. They move swiftly as cats in their confidence, sure in their knowledge of the night city, the mask of darkness granting each man discretion and subtle magic.
Dusk a prayer of waking, midnight a prayer of communion, dawn a benediction.
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Dear J Hardy,
A feast of light and shadow, dusk and dawn. I love the juxtaposition of contrasts.
Shalom,
Rochelle
What a great idea! Darkness giivng grace and dignity to the night men. Brilliant!
Poetic & profound.
“open begging in the face of bottomless scorn…” Magnificent!
Love this. The way the night opens the world up to the underclass, gives them a freedom of movement that the daylight and its repectability denies them. So well observed, so smart and poetic and poignant too. You’ve opened a whole new parallel city here. Fantastic
This was incredibly moving, atmospheric and poetic. So well written! I loved it!!
xx Rowena
I love the contrast here. Places are very different during the day to at night. You illustrated this beautifully.
This is prose poetry. Love it.
Just great writing and understanding. Very profound, excellently done
I love the poetry of those last two lines!
Very poetic and profound.
Two different worlds. Beautifully written.
My tale is called ‘Oh Bother!’
You do write so well…
I love the way you string these words together.