I love a lively city at the night. Not to be a part of it, but to look at it from behind a window, high above the life it holds; to watch it glow. Whenever I stand alone in a dark room, gazing at the dark-golden midnight Budapest, I have a somewhat silly, but strong itch, to feel myself as close to wisdom, as possible. A wisdom of the passive. Watching life without even trying to be a part of it gives whole new points of view. It all seems fragile and beatiful. Dark and glorious.
I guess you could say, gazing over midnight cities is my hobby. My way of meditating. Analizing. Attempting to understand life, as it is. Life, far away, out of reach.
