The Night Walk

The street is lit by the light of the moon - this eternal light that reveals the inner nature of the surrounding things, this light, the cold mildness of which is so predictable and yet unknown, which is forever yours and yet cannot be possessed in terms comprehensible to human beings... It warms you up in the most gentle and promising way, whispering its mystical lullabies into your ear and leaving signs in its shadows as if they were meant for you only, leaving you questioning about the meanings of existence. The moonlight's balance of color and light is perfect in the most divine way - it lacks the tiring heat of the sunlight or its exhausting brightness, the light of another nature, that only truly happy people can bear... The moonlight - silent, tender, and yet cruel, it is always there and always responding to you walking under it, within it, on it, deprived of the magnificent indifference of the sun, a luxury allowed to those who are so generous in their givings... Its silence carves out the heartbeats of the ones longing to it, cooling down the passion of their hearts, transforming it into the emotion of another kind... This capturing light of the moon is calling me to it, night after night, caressing me through the rice-paper screens and lace curtains of the bedroom, making me wake up in the middle of the night and walk - walk uphill - towards the forest spread on the hill a mile away from my house, where giant branches of the old trees are crossing over my head, carrying the weight of their moon-lit wisdom. Farewell, those days when the sky was big, it is in my palm now, this dark, silent, deep, somehow desperate sky, desperate to cover us all with its blessing! I've learned too soon, the sky cannot cover as even though it is stretched above our heads, it is connected to another universe and nor it separates neither protects us from it. We all are one step away from being swallowed by it and no one knows how we will look when there - will we be shadows of us in real life or locked into different bodies and forms? Will we survive the memory of things and happenings or will it haunt us in the same way we are reminded of all undone, unfinished or feared through our dreams and nightmares? I know it is all broader than it seems - in meanings,  in spaces or anything said to be measurable as nothing can be truly measured, no limit there is to one's power of life both within and beyond the physical existence...

 Here come some pictures I took when walking at night following the moonlight...