The streets are wet, reflecting the night in an offset version of itself. Faces are blurry, paces are hurried to places far buried. It’s a time for hunting when predators are preys and the weak grow strong. Alcohol is everywhere, flowing through veins and into brains, pouring out of nightclubs and shooting stars out of control. Strides are hesitant, minds are diluted, hearts easily broken as promises are forgotten.

A taxi driver, hailed at the last minute, slams on the brakes and stops in the middle of an intersection as if on a mission to save the planet. His ride stumbles to the car, fumbles to find the door and crumbles on the back seat, trying not to throw up.

Perched on vertiginous high heels, a women rushes by, her ankles tired and giving sideways as she lights a cigarette. Her make-up has dripped and her hair no longer reigns. The evening has had no mercy and drinking turned out to be bad medicine. Time to pick up the pieces and glue her mask back together.

Teenagers walk up and down the street, making up for their lack of self-assurance with a lot of noise and ridiculous outfits. They are learning fast to play the game, leaving behind their scoundrel ways, looking forward to scandal days. They think it gets better from here. They hope they will soon become who they believe to be tonight.

Couples stroll by, showing all degrees of homogeneity. Some hands are held, others clutched or turned into fists. Secrets are exchanged, no matter what the cost. Lies are told while the truth is hindered by darkness. But the truth comes out, too, when shadows stretch out to be longer than real and the rain has washed prudence away. All those couples represent, through their absolute imperfection and their ephemeral nature, the essence of this night and of all nights.

Every-one-is-looking-for-a-soul-mate. The quest takes on many different paths, assumes many different identities, under many different flags. But in the end all the abuse, the excesses, the exaggeration, the mistakes, the hurting, the savagery, the yelling, the crying, the pain and the obscurity of the night have but one single mission: finding peace in someone else’s company. Hearing an echo to one’s deepest tidal waves. Having no longer need for a night out in the street.

The night seeks only the light of a day.