Riddle Me This ...

It's funny.


As I finish having a smoke on the balcony, at 6AM, I wonder who else is awake, and how many other people are thinking what I'm thinking.


City silence is eerie.

Almost forbidden.

Traffic noise doesn't really intrude on that silence--not if you think of it as a simple rushing of the winds passing through for a momentary visit.

Common electrical and other simplistic noises only offer a form of mental reverberation.


Reassurance.


With eyes closed there are no headlights.

No street lamps.

Just sound.

For some reason, though, I neglected to hear any of it tonight, save for my own breathing;

A constant reminder that I am alive, here, now.


I do not like this sudden realization of complete and utter loneliness, as much as I try to tell myself that it's simple fiction.

A slip of the mind.

A brash endeavour at understanding what I've never understood.


Life always has a way of bringing about more questions.


Why is it that in a city full of people, in a cluster of friends and family, first-met individuals--absolute strangers--I feel like I'm the only one listening?

The only one watching what nobody else ever sees?