Autumn in the Park

The nights are colder these days. The air is crisp and the trees have more edges. I see yellow leaves everywhere – some crinkle under my feet and others cling to branches but every single one of them glow in the dark.

Just a few more steps and I will reach the spot where the tree uprooted in the typhoon lies in silence. It has been in that state for two months now, unmoving like a dead insect turned on its back with legs in the air.

A woman plays violin on one of the benches. Her music falls somewhere between lively and sad, making me wonder why she picked this particular one to play in a deserted corner of the park.

The silver moon shines alongside the lights that adorn the castle. A few stars hang around awkwardly near groups of clouds like loners at a party. I read somewhere that some of the stars we see from earth are already dead. It makes me sad to think of them dying of loneliness.

The park is mostly quiet but I can hear low murmurs of passers-by punctuated with the rhythmic footsteps and heavy breathing of other runners. There are more runners around the park – a sign of the upcoming marathon.

The park after sunset is a cold and lonely place. Vending machines flicker in dark corners, waiting patiently to offer a piece of themselves to any interested customers.

Several yards away, a green telephone hangs lifeless inside a phone booth lit up with white fluorescent light.

Someone is strumming the guitar a few yards away, singing in a language that I sometimes choose not to understand.

A flock of birds flew overhead, their cries piercing through the night sky.

Then, silence descends on the park once again.