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The yellow streetlights bother me at night. I lay in bed and they cast their soft glow into my room. It's too dark to see much, just orange-black silhouettes that stare back at me, familiar furniture turned into strange landscapes. It unnerves me. But outside, I enjoy the sodium glow, the cool damp of the city night and its artificial lights. I wish I could walk the streets without fear, look into dark corners and unlit underpasses. The artificial landscape of the city appeals to me. I want to walk through the city at night and wear headphones, listen to soothing drones while I soak up the atmosphere radiating from every surface, from the concrete and cobblestones. I want to stand on overpasses and watch the lonely cars go by beneath me. I want to walk past brightly lit storefronts devoid of people and see the last trams drive to their depots and walk in the middle of the street and know that there is a bed I can go back to when the golden lights have lost their sheen. I long to take a walk through the park at night without being scared of others or of scaring them. The night is so peaceful; I wish I was strong enough to enjoy it. I long for this freedom.