Darkness falls everywhere. Night comes whether you call for it or not. Suddenly it’s there and it changes everything. I know I’m aware of it but still I’m not. Maybe I was just not prepared for it just then, there, in sunny Mazzano.
As long as I can remember I have been seeing the moon. Like I am, always, everywhere, looking out for it when darkness is trying to catch me. I get happy every time, like seeing an old dear friend. To my surprise it started appearing in Mazzano as well. Somehow I wasn’t ready for that either. But let’s start with the darkness.
Darkness changes everything. It changes colours, sounds and smells. It makes a familiar route seem unfamiliar and disorienting. It makes you feel lost, but it also embraces you. In daytime Mazzano, the most striking and dominant feature is the monumental landscape surrounding it. The city sits on top of it, looking out over it, making it present everywhere. But when darkness falls, the landscape almost disappears. Is it hiding in the darkness or is the darkness hiding in it. The edge between the sky and the trees become blurry, or maybe it vanished and they merge into one. As the landscape hides away, the city turns on its lights, contrasting the bluish darkness with its warm yellow lights.
And the yellow lights are everywhere. The ones that I particularly think of are perfect spheres of yellow light. Like small full moons adding mood light for the teens in the park. The first time I saw them was walking home from the dinner at the restaurant in the new part of town. Maybe it was a coincidence that I had been watching the moon during the whole dinner and then these small moons was guiding us back home. Taking care of us like old friends. Isn’t that how street lights should really feel like?
In places like Mazzano, the darkness can become almost overwhelming. But it can also be soothing. Several times I found myself looking out over the dark landscape, maybe at first trying to find the blurry edge, but then just listening instead. All sounds somehow clearer. I could hear the river and the frogs below as if they were right next to me. Maybe nothing else was distracting me anymore.
Except the moon and the stars of course. Or is it too obvious to even mention them now? I saw the newly awakened moon from the church parking lot. I also saw Jupiter, which is very easy to mistake for an orange-looking star. Many times I looked for the moon only to find it was hiding behind the new part of town, or at least I assume it was. The stars were plenty though, always, glowing white dots in the dark blue mass that is the night sky. Who says that there’s nothing to see in darkness?
I’m not sure if this is a love song to Mazzano at night. Or to the moon. Or darkness in general. But it most probably is.