Torchlight, the playground deserted save for the solitary wanderer. The boy, alone or lonely? Traverses the track, his shoes the only sound disturbing the silence which wraps around him. Sometimes the silence is like an old friend, a comforter shielding him from banal chatter and the stupidity of crowds. On other occasions it is a thick blanket, suffocating, killing, stifling breath.

Entwined in darkness he goes his lonely light dimly illumines the darkness. Night is his realm, an escape from the banality of day but, sometimes the darkness oppresses, and, hurrying towards the lit windows he seeks sanctuary of a sort.

2 thoughts on “Torchlight

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