Wait until next year

So, another beautiful sunrise this morning, even more dramatic than Friday’s sunrise. Oranges and reds and billowing clouds and it is a little like the sky is on fire. A stunning contrast between the eternal majesty of the sky and the everyday mundanity of the street below, or some such statement.

It is hard to talk about sunrises without descending into tired, flowery cliché. I take a photo anyway. I worry that this new series is just going to be a series of sunrise photos. I worry I’m just a few days away from Photoshopping an inspirational quote on my sunrise photos. What have I become.

I turn my back on the sunrise and head west towards the station. The sky to the west is still dark, blue. The sun behind me gives this near-night an eerie light – the street lamps are off but it seems like they should be on. The street feels like it has been lit for a movie or something. There are odd reflections. In its own way it is as dramatic as the more obvious drama of the sunrise.

I take a photo of this. It doesn’t really do it justice. So I try to just take it all in, rather than just looking at my camera-phone screen.

There are a few other people walking to the station but I feel quite alone. When I walk back this evening each house I pass will have its lights on, some will still have their curtains open, there will be any number of home scenes, a reassuring humanity. Now, every house seems deserted, although of course isn’t.

I do hear a small child baa-baaing from one house. I see a man getting ready for work in another, putting on his tie in front of the TV. There are people about. If you listen and look hard enough. But I don’t want to be one of those creepy people peering into houses.