Growing up, my bedroom faced the street. It wasn't a busy street, but there would always be headlights swirling by. They threw the outline of my window onto the ceiling in light, and, as they advanced, made it reel like a dancer.
I was often awake in the middle of the night, 2, 3, 4am. And even at those hours, one or two cars would go down our street.
Again, we're talking about a narrow residential street in a town of around 35,000 people at that time. Not particularly near downtown or any place that would be open at those times.
So what were these drivers doing on my little street at that hour? Where were they going?
Just to ask the question meant knowing you would never know the answer.
Good training in existentialism.
