The Wonders of a Night Walk
Most nights, I take a short walk, letting the cool air clear my mind. Streetlights cast soft haloes, and the world feels quieter, as if holding its breath. Once, I saw a moth flutter toward a porch light, its wings glowing like lace, and a cat darting across the road, a shadow in the darkness. Night walks reveal details hidden by day: the scent of jasmine blooming on a fence, the distant hum of a late bus, the way stars peek through city smog if you look closely enough. They’re a time to be alone without loneliness, to listen to my own thoughts or let them drift. Walking in the dark teaches me to trust my senses, to find beauty in the half-seen, and to appreciate that even in stillness, life continues—gentle, steady, full of quiet miracles. Each step is a reminder that the world doesn’t need to be bright to be beautiful; sometimes, the magic lies in learning to see by moonlight.