Never is the city as beautiful, however, as it is when it is draped in the velvety darkness of night.

I enjoy walking the streets, usually at around 10 or 11. This is the time when work is finished and the city comes out to play. The side of a building that was transparent and lifeless earlier in the day now screams the reflection of tail lights, headlights and the red and yellow neon sign for the Italian restaurant across the street. Steam erupts from the manholes and swirls playfully in the crisp December air. Car horns blare in the distance. The percussion of a man with an overturned plastic bucket thumps from nearby. Conversation spills briefly into the night air as a young couple exits a nice restaurant in which people are dressed well and talking and laughing vibrantly. These sounds all blend together into a sort of metropolitan symphony that sacrifices harmony for simplistic perfection. I walk past the man and his makeshift drum and place a dollar into his hat. A nod and the flash of a toothy grin convey his gratitude. A concert is letting out ahead. Business will be picking up for him.

I don't think about much as I walk. I don't plan where I am going. I change streets and direction impulsively and see where I find myself. I like being able to relate to the unpredictability of the city. Every now and then I will sit down and rest at a bus stop or on a bench. This is my people watching time. The people are my favorite part of the city. They are constantly moving and changing and you never see the same group twice. I sit and focus on all sorts of different faces as they walk past, oblivious to my little game. There are so many, yet never two exactly alike. They say the same is true of snowflakes. I make judgments about them, think of stories, decide who I think would be interesting. I never actually talk to any of them. It would ruin the element of fantasy, make them real. I prefer, instead, to remove myself from reality for a little while and forfeit all thought to imagination. When I am finished I will rise and begin the trek back home. I never do enjoy the walk back quite as much. It is the same dazzling cityscape, the same wonderful people, yet there is a difference. I am going. I am not immersing myself in the city, but instead merely passing through. Sometimes I find myself wishing that my city nights would never end.