When I first started dating Eva when I was in my teens, I wasn’t allowed to sleep over during the first few months. Since she lived in a different town about twenty kilometers away and I didn’t have my driver’s license yet (only elligble to get them when you turn 18 in the Netherlands), it meant I had to take the bus home quite often. We’d go out to see a film, wander around Amsterdam, and then we’d go back to hers, I’d drop her off and I’d walk to the nearest bus station to catch a bus home. Unfortunately, after midnight, busses hardly ran as often, so sometimes, when the timing was off, I’d have to wait an hour or so for the next bus to take my home. Often it was a big drag, but sometimes, especially in the late Spring, early Summer, it was actually kind of a treat.
Under certain circumstances, when it’s really wind still, and it’s very quiet out on the street, it almost feels as if you’re standing in-doors. It’s eerie to realise how far sound can carry. It always made me feel very alone, though never lonely, and I found it comforting and pleasant. The overhead sodium lights washing everything in yellowy ink also added to the overall feel that I was in a movie — like standing on the set of Deus Ex: Human Revolution. I know most people hate those lights, but I love them. I can’t quite explain why.
Anyway, ever since that time I can get so happy and content by just sitting on a street somewhere when it’s dark out, it’s wind still, quiet and there’s sodium lights overhead.
