A visitor

It’s not a power cut, but the street lights are off. For the first time in a long time shadows steak across the neighbourhood as busy houses are the only source of light.

It is an unusual look for a residential area in a city to have. The absence seems to amplifies the voice of people moving around. Maybe they’re trying to compensate and keep themselves visible. The light and shadows make patterns that mirror the houses and people who live here. In this rare occasion the buildings have gone from the familiar & banal suburban stylings to something eccentric. The concrete moves, jutting, moving, and reaching for highs and lows, breathing in and out according to their builders fancies and wallets. Very strange that an unremarkable street would show so much character.

The stray cats and dogs are bolder in how they scurry about, still quick footed but openly moving in human sight, no longer dodging and ducking below human reach. The wildlife picks up the pace only when humans walk closely but are clearly emboldened. The trees seem to gain prominence, they block off light from houses, their branches and foliage attempting to envelope their sections of the street. When they shudder and rock back & forth, you notice it and feel the life in them.

It is more obviously late, the silence and people retreating inside seem like rare visitors from the countryside. There are maintenance crews, moving slowly from their vans, could I ask them to come back some other day?

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