Night street

November brings the cold creeping into my memory, the street seems more deserted by the scattered, lonely cries in the quiet night.

Ha Tinh night street.

I kept feeling that the cry rushed into the empty space and then slowly faded away, spread out... disappeared without a single response or turning back.

The street tonight is so thin, pale like a woman nearly forty who has just passed through a thorny life, with love in the depths of her eyes, as well as resentment and pain.

Perhaps the earth and sky had just begun winter, so the season was still young and fresh, the street was strained after a tiring day of work by the flow of vehicles going back and forth, by the noisy, hurried footsteps of people... now it was strangely like this, lying peacefully gnawing at sadness, swallowing every rash impulse of a time of youth, of a day that had just passed... and then sinking into silence. How precious was this moment of silence, a moment of silence like a memorial to the street or a memorial to myself?

Environmental workers work in the cold winter night on a street in Ha Tinh city. Illustration photo by Ngoc Thang.

I suddenly found myself understanding the loneliness and desolation that the street was suffering.

Oh! Not all loneliness is necessarily bad, perhaps the loneliness in the heart of the city or in my soul at this moment is depicting all the desolation of the winter city, and then in that sadness, there are sparkling expensive diamonds attached to the drifting lives... Suddenly I feel passionately in love with this fragile life. It is so beautiful.

Workers make a living on a winter night in Ha Tinh city. Photo courtesy

... Wandering under the high-pressure light of the lampposts growing on both sides of the sidewalk, the night suddenly became strangely seductive. Somewhere there was a faint scent that made my nose ache, so pungent, so suffocating, a scent with the special flavor of a flower. Ah, so it was, autumn had left the season, only this little bit of passion remained, that was enough to make people who spent all day next to the milk flower tree sick with discomfort, but for me, that unique flower kept pouring into my chest a sweet regret of love. I sat down, cupped my hands to gather the tiny flowers that fell in front of me, turning the whole street white, as if embracing everything that was preparing to leave. The petals just quietly slipped through my thin fingers and fell onto the street... This space, this moment made me feel like there would be no despair lingering around, no sadness... Only nostalgia to prepare for a new beginning!

I don't know why my heart sometimes feels like it's in turmoil, even when a thin wind tries to blow through my hair, my eyes suddenly sting and water up in the cold winter night in the city.

Then the street was silent, just like I was sometimes silent before myself, that silence gradually became familiar, became a habit, sometimes felt boring, the loneliness and separation between colorful faces full of fate...

Sometimes I feel like the world only gives me a few moments to stay, to play around, to experience. Then I leave.

I don't understand this feeling anymore. Sometimes it still feels like it's part of who I am.

Thanh Sen is quiet on a winter night. Photo by Dinh Nhat.

Oh the slow night, the deserted night... the deep night as if I stumbled upon someone's deep eyes filled with pain, how long has it been since someone was sadder and silent in the middle of the street.

I just lull myself with the sweet yellow light from the street lamps. Sometimes that desolate color gives me the feeling of being so peaceful, peaceful in loneliness, lonely and rebellious, then I immerse myself with countless mixed emotions between the joy and laughter of children, or the strangeness of a skinny, old, irritable and difficult figure, sometimes as gentle as a young girl... but that light color is extremely confident, absolutely safe.

A quiet street in the deserted night is already beautiful, a scattered sound of a night market is spreading out is also beautiful, a rustling sound of a bamboo broom mixed in the mist is also wonderful. Everything is like a silent painting that fills me in the middle of the street, tonight.

Le Nhi

Source: https://baohatinh.vn/van-hoc/pho-dem/257114.htm