Sat 27th July
When I walk
from the bus stop back to my hotel after sunset, I’m going through a dirt track
with no street lighting. In the darkness, the sounds become salient, and the
auditory wallpaper of chirruping crickets is punctuated by the sound of loud
bullfrogs in the ditches bellowing out their croaks in an attempt to attract a
mate.
The other
animal I occasionally hear is the metallic oil-fuelled beast whose headlights
transform the uneven road surface into a dramatic chiaroscuro of lit mountain
ranges and peaks against deep dark valleys of darkness; peaks and valleys that
move with the gentle passing of the vehicle. When placing your steps, aim for
the peaks. In those treacherous valleys of darkness there could be anything:
animals, a ditch, or a deep dark hole in the road. Even absenting a hole, its
depth is unknown, and could send a shudder up your body as you step onto ground
that was lower than you thought.
In that
darkness, the rare approaching passersby are reduced to walking silhouettes, as
the blackness of the night robs them of the facial features that bring people
to life. Like ghosts, they waft before the silhouettes of majestic trees that
strike out bold shapes against the distant faint twilight of the night sky with
its unfamiliar constellations.
When I
reach the hotel, I knock on the massive metal gate, and the guard slowly creaks
it open, leading me back to the land of light. Unless there’s a power cut!
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