An Evening Walk
Dusk succumbed to darkness as I exited my apartment building. With no destination in mind, I first grabbed a Döner at the local shop, then headed on my way via the train northwest through the city. I hopped out at one of the last stations before the border to the neighboring state to the north, and decided to take a bus to an old familiar part of the city, disconnected from any train service.
I was one of the few people on the bus as it buzzed through the dark streets, before getting off at my intended stop. It was deserted. In fact, one could have heard a pin drop. I liked that. It suited me just fine. The streetlights cast a soft orange glow onto the pavement below my feet as I strolled along the sidewalk. Memories flooded my mind as I passed places where I had spent a significant amount of time. That was years ago, why was I drawn back here now? I didn’t know, but I didn’t particularly care. Perhaps I’m hiding somewhat in nostalgia, in a fake and romanticized version of events long past.
My train of thought was only occasionally interrupted by the odd passing bike, or a pair of oncoming car headlights. Where were those people I had been with here all that time ago? What were they doing? Did they even live here anymore? Did they ever walk the same streets? What of the man who so graciously gave of his time but held some egregious opinions? I passed the building where we had snuck up to one of the top floors and gazed across the lights of Hamburg.
Tall apartment buildings loomed on each side of the street, giving the pedestrian on the sidewalk the feeling that they were walled in or trapped in a sort of urban cage. Somehow this feeling fit my current mood. I passed a small bar that was already closed, but whose lights were still on, and the lights of a few closed grocery stores. I love the city, but at times feel as though I’m stuck here. These feelings sound as though they should be at odds with each other but I somehow experience both of them at the same time.
I was nearing the end of the street and noticed that there was a large construction project there, all the massive machines foreboding, quiet, and dark. I crossed the street and turned back the way I had come. I had to move soon. Probably to somewhere else in Hamburg, but I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure. It was fine for me, I was ready to move out of the district in which I currently resided. It was known as the night-life center of the city, and I would be fine not being stuck in the middle of it anymore. It’s great fun at first, to be in the center of things. After four years, you begin to want to NOT live at the center of one of the world’s largest adult playgrounds.
I knew what I was getting into when I moved there, and I did enjoy it quite a bit for a long time. Now my heart has begun to turn, wanting to be far away from the center of anything. If I want to party or revel, I’m fine with finding it instead of it finding me. While everyone was on trains and buses to get to where I lived to drink and be merry, I was on trains and buses to find a quiet corner of the city to take a walk and be alone with my thoughts. Like tonight.
I was now getting close to the bus stop where I would be swooped up and out of this relatively cut-off area of the city, and back to the train station, where I would reluctantly board a train back to the party district. Back to the yelling, the smashing of glass bottles, the chaos, the police sirens, the prostitutes asking me if I wanted to have a good time on my way home. Again, at first this had all been so exciting, thrilling even. I had grown up in a sleepy little town far away from anything even remotely close to such a setting. Any glamorous facade had worn off for me now, and had revealed a stench of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and a feeling of deep exhaustion.
The bus rolled up to the stop, lumbering like a big metal caterpillar. The doors whooshed open and the lights of the bus enveloped me as it sped off into the night, ferrying me back to a place I didn’t wish to be.