I, Johnny Call, am completely, hopelessly, and utterly in love with the night. Don’t think me hopeless in romance, but I’m positive that I love the night more than I have ever loved any woman not related to me. I love the mystery that surrounds it, an inky cloak draped across the sky, beckoning me to explore and discover with the promise of unknown adventure. I love the way that light hits a human face from so many angles, the even display of fairy lights, the hard tungsten shadow of an overhead street lamp, soft, pale moonlight from 250,000 miles away.
While the rest of the world sleeps, I am free to prowl the desolate streets of my city, breathing, letting my heart beat with the pulse of the unknown ether. My senses heighten. My ears prick up, hearing the shouts of the happily drunk, the rev of motorcycle engines, and the hum of crickets. My eyes dilate, seeing the silent deer that roam the meadow by my house, the shake of the leaves as they are kissed by the wind, and the lonely figures, who roam as I do. Even my sense of touch amplifies so much that every fall of my foot on hard stone, every tenuous press of my shutter button, every caress of my hand to ruddy skin feels to me like all of eternity has waited, breathless for that touch.
Yes, I love the night, I love capturing it in it’s black, perfect beauty, I play in it with impunity, knowing I am hidden and that my imperfection is overlooked. The only thing that brings me dread about the night is the promise of dawn.
Created: Apr 09, 2014JohnnyCallMe Document Media