
The Catharsis of Wandering at Night
There’s something about being out and about at night. The day has already passed and there isn’t anything left to do for the day. Any worries can wait til tomorrow — the feeling of not being attached to anything of this world, even if it’s just for a little bit.
As of late, my reprieves have largely come in the evenings. They’ve come from driving around aimlessly, listening to music, podcasts, or even rumble of the road beneath the car’s wheels.
Screaming the lyrics to some song in the car, nodding furiously to the beat, and putting my foot on the pedal as the streets whir past. Feeling the wind blow onto my face. Even when it feels hard to let out a sigh, the wind almost forces me to do so anyway. It doesn’t matter if I don’t know all of the lyrics or the intended meaning behind the song because there’s no one else in the car. I can say, sing, shout, whisper and think whatever I want.
If I want to stop by the kerbside for no reason, I can. If I want to grab a 24 pack of chicken nuggets at the McDonald’s drive-thru, I can. There’s no denying the glory of dipping mystery-meat nuggets into an assortment of mystery-mix sauces on the right night.
Being outside, I do not feel stuck or weighed down like I can be when I am confined to some room in my house. Not wasting away on my bed as I watch random YouTube videos for hours on end. Not sitting in an office, feeling my life force draining away from adding to a cause I feel no connection towards.

Thinking back to other times, not necessarily being in the car and driving aimlessly, but cycling back home after a night out or wandering the city after a day of work or university, these moments of solitude have more often than not provided a sense of catharsis. On the street, I’m just another person melded into the crowd. I am free to listen to the noises of the city or plug in my headphones while working around the streets of Sydney or wherever else I have been.
During these moments, distractions from the ‘every day’ are more easily blocked out. You’re able to let your guard down because there’s no one to guard against. Your obligations and the opinions of others are distant enough so you’re able to filter through the sea of voices to hear your own. You’re able to sort through the conundrum of thoughts that may exist in your mind — able to go through them at whatever pace you would like. Or you can just not think at all, left to enjoy your surroundings.
From wandering aimlessly at night, I’ve had time to reflect on the days, weeks or months that have passed. To think about my fears, values and identity — to think about the mistakes I’ve made and the lessons learnt.
It’s also allowed me to think about the present and the uncertain future — to acknowledge that I don’t know how things will work out but that that’s okay. Wandering has galvanised me to search for new and creative perspectives about the way forward.
When I have gone for my late night drives, a song that has played consistently is LCD Soundsystem’s ‘All My Friends’. It’s a song about aging, feeling disconnected, simultaneously reckoning with and missing your past and in spite of the overwhelmingness of all of that, to keep wandering, to move forward and keep searching. In some way, the song has allowed me to belt out whatever I am feeling and given me the confidence to think about the hard and scary things in my life.
And to tell the truth
Oh, this could be the last time
So here we go
Like a sales force into the nightAll My Friends — LCD Soundsystem
So go wander. Sometimes a bit of spontaneous solitude is the thing that allows us to come up with the next step or plan of action, or at least, the resolve to start thinking about them.
