Black Star

st-rabismus:

Nighthawks - Edward Hopper (Art Institute of Chicago 1942)

I imagine myself walking home in the night, the sound of the pavement greeting my shoes every single step with no one around. The wet streets give off reflections of any light it could find. The darkness calms me but I try not to forget the possibility of lurking eyes under the shadows of the alleys. I saw the only bar open at this hour. The diner was lonely, so were the people inside it. I watched their faces, their gestures. The man looked up, his glance almost catching the lady’s. Her hand almost touched the other man’s.  Do I join them - maybe a shared loneliness is better after all. No, another man who sat facing away from me stirred and was about to face my direction. Maybe he felt me watching from outside. My intentions died and I resumed my orchestra with the pavement. I’m back to being lonely. Well, so is he - so are they.