John Keats was someone for whom, and around whom, my life revolved for a certain period of time in my early twenties. And because we don’t often acknowledge who we were or have been enough when we think of who we are, I want to tell our story.
By our story, I mean both I and Keats story and I and poetry’s story, for they intersect quite a bit.
The walker always finds solitude but most especially at night. There is something about walking alone at night. I love it. I am in love with it. When you walk at night you are cocooned in silence. You can be alone, anonymous.
At night, people can’t see you, and you can’t see them.There are no people, and therefore no politeness to people. Politeness is a form of acknowledging you are not alone.
In the dark, we can easy in ourselves without the expectations of others.You can walk among the houses without walking among them.