One autumn, it was particularly dark and I had finished late. And as I rounded the final corner, relieved to see the orange glow of the streetlights, I was met by a dozen smaller lights winking back at me. Halloween pumpkins, perched in doorways and on walls. Tiny lanterns in the dark, marking the houses long after trick-or-treaters had been tucked up in bed with a belly full of sweets.
I followed the flickering trail back home, and felt, as I did most nights, like a very temporary traveller on those well-worn paths.