One Last Walk
A walk in a small calm city
In the chilly winter, late at night, on an empty street under gloomy lights, beneath a dark sky with full moonlight, I walk to my dorm one last time. I am not alone. Though I might be walking alone, in this small, calm city, I always encounter someone I know.
With the frozen air and puffing smoke, I speak to the person accompanying me. “If you had a chance, would you come back here in the future?” Silence reigns as we walk through a dark alley, passing by a row of closed stores in old buildings. The only light comes from a Turkish restaurant where young people are eating late, its glow illuminating the surroundings.
“It wouldn’t be the same,” comes the reply. I am confused by the answer. Silence returns. Three drunk people pass by, vodka in hand, their other arms embracing each other as they march toward the last tram.
I have no response to the answer. Rustling leafless trees and scattered fallen leaves line the street. Oblivious to everything, we walk on. The same voice breaks the silence. “Do you think the reason you want to come back here is because of this place?” The same pause emerges. The night grows colder. My puffer jacket from home can’t keep out the chill.
Walking under the bridge, the gentle murmur of the river sounds closer. The rhythmic sound brings a sense of peace, considering how busy this building with big billboard advertisements and large glass windows was during the day, but now it lies still.
I still don’t know the answer. All I can do is hope the same voice will answer the questions. At an intersection, the traffic light repeatedly blinks yellow. We cross the street. No cars pass by; everyone is home, absorbing the heat. Laughter echoes through the street — young people living their lives. There is still no answer. We just walk the same route we’ve walked thousands of times.
The laughter grows closer and clearer. In the distance, I see everyone in front of the door, gathering to smoke. I roam the backyard of this immense building, completely dark with a garden, bushes, and chairs. The light in my dorm guides me. Finally, the same voice breaks the stillness. “We found ourselves at the perfect moment, in the perfect place, surrounded by the right experiences and opportunities, and we met just the right people. If any of these things had happened a minute sooner or later, or if any element had been different, would it still feel the same?”
Silence reigns once again. The dark surroundings gradually brighten. All the familiar faces become clearer. I nod and wave to them. They offer me a smoke and initiate a chat, but I am not in the mood. I head to the door, knowing that this interaction would be the last time I meet all of them. The question floats in the air. I still don’t know the answer and perhaps I never will, so I let it be.
