As the light fades westwards the streets of commerce everywhere fill up with a different group of people. The suits and stilettos of the bright daylight hours now beat their way into their own familiar spaces. The image of the population alters.
The people of the night streets find a place, sometimes in plain view, to be still. They are as still as their anguish will allow. All day they have been on the move, being shuffled from one position to another, being as invisible as their current status in society has dictated. The cloak of this alternate identity is heavy. It brings no warmth or comfort.
The promise of the daylight returning again is alive in some of the hearts inhabiting the impossible locations. Still others drift into unconsciousness pleading for the darkness to keep them forever. There are signs etched in each body: repeated rejection, disgrace, fear, foolishness, greed, and bitterness. Each person has an individual burden to carry.
However, they hold few things in common, and with what energy remains they all, separately, colonize a small foothold on the world as they start another unknown sojourn in their one-night homes.
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