The Rebel

  Late-night walks are my new favorite thing to do. Walking on empty streets, staring into oblivion, street lights shining against each other, raccoons crossing, and music blasting in my ears — completely immersed in my head, in a new world, imagining things that could never happen in real life, creating scenarios whilst treading upon wet grasses. With the cold wind blowing against my face and hands in my pockets, I walk on. It’s funny how someone with such lazy bones can find joy in walking endlessly. I wonder what it’s like to walk on and on, without a destination. Where would I end up? The emptiness of the endless narrow street in my direct line of sight is oddly comforting. Alone in an empty world, the sober moon shines brightly yet subtly enough to maintain the darkness of the night. I can laugh, giggle, and talk back to my own thoughts without a care for who might be listening. I turn the streets into my runway, strutting on and acting out my imaginations subconsciously. Life cou