Lonely Old Night

Even though there are streaks of light flying by and the city lights, there's something to me about this that speaks of solitude.

 

The town I grew up in is an odd little place, a mixture of moving forward and stagnation. I'm sure lots of little towns are like this, unsure whether they'll wither or thrive. As with people, there's beauty and ugliness to find. I tend to concentrate on the former. While I was taking this shot, I heard a voice from across the street, "Are you taking pictures of that?" I yelled back in the affirmative. A couple of similar questions. The last one she replied, "you know, it is pretty at night." There was a sound of incredulity. As if she'd never noticed before. A second later, her friends stepped out of a nearby shop and I heard her telling them about me taking pictures of the depot and how pretty it was. There was an odd feeling of accomplishment regardless of whether the photo is worth anything to anyone other than me.

 

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