WEBVTT 1 00:00:00.200 --> 00:00:03.399 Before we begin, a word about another show from our network. 2 00:00:03.879 --> 00:00:06.799 If you enjoy a slower kind of attention, you may 3 00:00:06.960 --> 00:00:10.359 like the Verdict Room, where two legal minds sit down 4 00:00:10.400 --> 00:00:14.880 with real courtroom cases and walk through the evidence, the strategy, 5 00:00:15.359 --> 00:00:18.640 and the human decisions behind them. It is a different 6 00:00:18.679 --> 00:00:21.399 pace from this one, and it is worth your time 7 00:00:21.440 --> 00:00:24.600 when you are awake for it. For now, though, let 8 00:00:24.679 --> 00:00:28.519 us stay here, let us begin. You are walking beside 9 00:00:28.600 --> 00:00:30.879 him now, though you do not have to be anywhere. 10 00:00:31.640 --> 00:00:34.119 The evening has settled over the rooftops, and you have 11 00:00:34.240 --> 00:00:37.479 nowhere else to be. The day has already ended for you, 12 00:00:37.840 --> 00:00:39.840 has already been set down like a coat you are 13 00:00:39.880 --> 00:00:43.280 no longer wearing. Your shoulders are lower than they were 14 00:00:43.320 --> 00:00:46.520 an hour ago. Your breath has found a slower rhythm, 15 00:00:47.119 --> 00:00:50.079 and it matches the rhythm of the cobblestones beneath your feet, 16 00:00:50.640 --> 00:00:53.439 each stone a small flat island and a quiet river 17 00:00:53.560 --> 00:00:56.880 of old stone. The air is cool, and it carries 18 00:00:56.920 --> 00:00:59.920 the smell of rain that fell earlier, a smell that 19 00:01:00.159 --> 00:01:03.479 rises from the gutters and the dark spaces between the buildings. 20 00:01:04.439 --> 00:01:07.079 The street is narrow, and the houses lean toward each 21 00:01:07.079 --> 00:01:09.959 other slightly, as if they are sharing a secret or 22 00:01:10.040 --> 00:01:12.959 keeping one. There is a lamp lighter ahead of you, 23 00:01:13.719 --> 00:01:16.640 a man with a brass pole over his shoulder, and 24 00:01:16.680 --> 00:01:19.319 you are walking behind him at a distance that feels right, 25 00:01:20.040 --> 00:01:22.920 close enough to see what he does, far enough to 26 00:01:22.920 --> 00:01:25.760 give him room to work. You do not need to 27 00:01:25.799 --> 00:01:28.680 know his name yet, though you will learn it. You 28 00:01:28.760 --> 00:01:31.040 do not need to know where he is going, though 29 00:01:31.040 --> 00:01:32.959 you will follow him all the way to the end 30 00:01:32.959 --> 00:01:36.040 of the street and back again. For now, you only 31 00:01:36.079 --> 00:01:39.560 need to keep walking, one foot after the other, letting 32 00:01:39.599 --> 00:01:43.000 the evening take you deeper into itself. The light is 33 00:01:43.079 --> 00:01:45.920 leaving the sky, slowly, the way it always does at 34 00:01:45.920 --> 00:01:49.000 this time of year in this place, pulling away like 35 00:01:49.040 --> 00:01:52.120 a tide going out over a long, pale shore. The 36 00:01:52.159 --> 00:01:55.599 windows of the houses are lit now, one by one, 37 00:01:55.640 --> 00:01:58.879 not the sharp electric light of newer towns, but the warmer, 38 00:01:59.000 --> 00:02:02.680 more uncertainly height of candles and oil lamps and fires 39 00:02:02.719 --> 00:02:07.000 behind iron grates. The shadows between the houses are growing 40 00:02:07.079 --> 00:02:11.280 longer and thicker, but they are not dark, not yet. 41 00:02:12.159 --> 00:02:14.400 They are the color of deep water, the color of 42 00:02:14.439 --> 00:02:17.599 ink diluted in a glass, and they move gently as 43 00:02:17.599 --> 00:02:21.759 the last daylight shifts and bends. You follow the lamp lighter, 44 00:02:21.840 --> 00:02:24.159 and you let your shoulders drop, and you let the 45 00:02:24.240 --> 00:02:26.879 sounds of the street reach you without grasping at them. 46 00:02:27.199 --> 00:02:30.120 A door closing somewhere, the clatter of a cup sat 47 00:02:30.199 --> 00:02:32.759 down on a wooden table, the low murmur of a 48 00:02:32.840 --> 00:02:36.039 voice speaking to someone who is already asleep or nearly so. 49 00:02:36.479 --> 00:02:39.479 These are the sounds of the world winding down, the 50 00:02:39.560 --> 00:02:42.120 sounds of a day completing itself, and you are part 51 00:02:42.159 --> 00:02:45.479 of them, now, walking quietly beside a man who has 52 00:02:45.520 --> 00:02:48.000 been walking this street for longer than you have been alive. 53 00:02:48.240 --> 00:02:50.319 His name is Alder, and he lives in a small 54 00:02:50.400 --> 00:02:52.719 room at the corner of the street where the cobblestones 55 00:02:52.759 --> 00:02:56.240 turn and the baker's cart is stored over night. The 56 00:02:56.360 --> 00:02:58.719 room is not much larger than a large closet, but 57 00:02:58.800 --> 00:03:01.039 it has a window that faces east in a door 58 00:03:01.080 --> 00:03:04.439 that opens onto the street, and these two things are enough. 59 00:03:04.719 --> 00:03:07.840 There is a bed along one wall, narrow and neatly, 60 00:03:07.879 --> 00:03:10.759 made with a quilt that was his mother's, and then 61 00:03:10.800 --> 00:03:15.120 his grandmother's before that. The fabric has worn thin in places, 62 00:03:15.840 --> 00:03:18.520 and there are patches where the stitching has been redone 63 00:03:18.759 --> 00:03:23.360 so many times that the original pattern is lost. But 64 00:03:23.439 --> 00:03:26.039 it is warm, and it holds the heat of his 65 00:03:26.120 --> 00:03:30.120 body through the long winter nights. There is a chair 66 00:03:30.159 --> 00:03:34.080 by the window, wooden with a cushion that has faded 67 00:03:34.120 --> 00:03:37.520 from red to a color that is almost pink. On 68 00:03:37.599 --> 00:03:41.120 the table beside the chair there is a kettle, small 69 00:03:41.199 --> 00:03:44.919 and black from years of use, and a cup and 70 00:03:45.000 --> 00:03:47.159 a small tin of tea that he buys from the 71 00:03:47.199 --> 00:03:51.759 merchant who comes through on Thursdays. The kettle is already full. 72 00:03:52.879 --> 00:03:55.560 He filled it this morning when he woke, before the 73 00:03:55.599 --> 00:03:58.199 sun was fully up, and he set it on the 74 00:03:58.240 --> 00:04:00.879 small stove that sits in the corner of the room, 75 00:04:01.759 --> 00:04:04.719 the stove that is fed with coal and wood scraps, 76 00:04:05.240 --> 00:04:08.840 and sometimes with shavings from the keeper's shop down the street. 77 00:04:09.520 --> 00:04:13.000 The stove is cold now, it has been cold for hours. 78 00:04:13.919 --> 00:04:16.040 But the kettle is full, and the tea is in 79 00:04:16.120 --> 00:04:19.519 its tin. And there is a small flame wading in 80 00:04:19.560 --> 00:04:23.160 the hearth, a flame he will kindle when he returns, 81 00:04:23.920 --> 00:04:26.720 a flame that will heat the water and warm the room, 82 00:04:26.920 --> 00:04:29.279 and make ready the cup of tea that he drinks 83 00:04:29.319 --> 00:04:33.040 every night before he lies down. This is the ritual 84 00:04:33.079 --> 00:04:36.800 of the evening, the ritual of return, and it is 85 00:04:36.839 --> 00:04:39.560 as much a part of the walk as the walking itself. 86 00:04:40.120 --> 00:04:42.519 Alder stands by the door, and he is putting on 87 00:04:42.600 --> 00:04:46.399 his coat. The coat is old, older than most things 88 00:04:46.399 --> 00:04:48.600 in the room, and it has been patched at the 89 00:04:48.639 --> 00:04:51.519 elbows and the shoulders, and along the hem where the 90 00:04:51.560 --> 00:04:55.079 wet of the street has worn the fabric thin. The 91 00:04:55.160 --> 00:04:58.160 patches are not neat there the work of his own hands, 92 00:04:58.480 --> 00:05:01.240 needle and thread, and they are the color of rust 93 00:05:01.319 --> 00:05:04.639 and moss, and the dark brown of old bark. The 94 00:05:04.680 --> 00:05:06.920 coat is too large for him in some places, and 95 00:05:06.959 --> 00:05:09.839 too small in others, but it fits in the way 96 00:05:09.879 --> 00:05:11.959 that things fit when they have been worn for a 97 00:05:12.040 --> 00:05:15.199 very long time, when the body in the garment have 98 00:05:15.279 --> 00:05:19.879 reached an understanding. The brass pole leans by the door, waiting. 99 00:05:20.480 --> 00:05:23.879 It is taller than older, taller than most men, and 100 00:05:23.920 --> 00:05:27.439 it is smooth from decades of use, the brass worn 101 00:05:27.480 --> 00:05:29.839 to a warm gold where his hand has held it. 102 00:05:30.439 --> 00:05:32.680 At the top of the pole there is a small compartment, 103 00:05:32.920 --> 00:05:36.199 a hollow chamber, no larger than a thimble, where the 104 00:05:36.199 --> 00:05:38.959 flame lives. The flame is lit from a lantern that 105 00:05:39.000 --> 00:05:41.879 he carries, a lantern with a handle and a chimney 106 00:05:41.879 --> 00:05:44.839 of glass, and the lantern is already on the table 107 00:05:44.879 --> 00:05:49.000 by the door, already lit, its small flame, burning steady 108 00:05:49.160 --> 00:05:52.240 and sure. Alder picks up the pole in his right hand. 109 00:05:52.800 --> 00:05:54.959 He has carried it in his right hand for fifty 110 00:05:55.000 --> 00:05:58.839 one years, and his greepe at shore, his fingers, knowing 111 00:05:58.920 --> 00:06:01.759 exactly where to close around the smooth wood. He does 112 00:06:01.800 --> 00:06:04.639 not consider the pole when he holds it. He gives 113 00:06:04.680 --> 00:06:07.000 no attention to the weight of it or the way 114 00:06:07.040 --> 00:06:10.639 it balances in his hand. The pole is an extension 115 00:06:10.759 --> 00:06:14.879 of his arm, an extension of his intention, and when 116 00:06:14.879 --> 00:06:17.319 he walks with it over his shoulder, he feels the 117 00:06:17.360 --> 00:06:20.879 way he has always felt, which is ready, which is steady, 118 00:06:21.399 --> 00:06:24.240 which is exactly where he is supposed to be. He 119 00:06:24.319 --> 00:06:26.879 takes the lantern in his other hand, the left one, 120 00:06:27.240 --> 00:06:29.800 and he opens the door with his hip because both 121 00:06:29.879 --> 00:06:32.959 hands are full, and he steps out into the evening. 122 00:06:33.399 --> 00:06:36.120 The air touches his face, and it is cool, and 123 00:06:36.199 --> 00:06:39.680 it carries the smell of the street, the frinilier smell 124 00:06:39.720 --> 00:06:42.560 of stone and wood, and the faint ghost of bread 125 00:06:42.600 --> 00:06:45.759 from the bakery, and also the smell of the rain, 126 00:06:46.319 --> 00:06:49.519 the wet stone, the gutters running with the last of 127 00:06:49.560 --> 00:06:53.079 the water. He breathes in and his chest hills, and 128 00:06:53.160 --> 00:06:56.120 he stands for a moment on the threshold, looking up 129 00:06:56.160 --> 00:06:59.399 and down the street, orienting himself the way a sailor 130 00:06:59.480 --> 00:07:02.959 orients by the stars, though he has no need of stars. 131 00:07:03.240 --> 00:07:05.519 He knows this street the way he knows his own 132 00:07:05.560 --> 00:07:08.720 heart beat, the way he knows the lines in his palms, 133 00:07:09.120 --> 00:07:11.399 the way he knows the sound of his own breath 134 00:07:11.439 --> 00:07:14.560 in the silence of the early morning. The first lamp 135 00:07:14.680 --> 00:07:17.480 is at the corner of the street, the corner nearest 136 00:07:17.519 --> 00:07:20.639 his door, and it is mounted on an iron bracket 137 00:07:20.680 --> 00:07:23.879 that extends from the wall of the old apothecary shop, 138 00:07:24.480 --> 00:07:27.600 the shop that closed years ago and now sells nothing. 139 00:07:28.199 --> 00:07:31.839 The window dark, the door always locked, but the lamp 140 00:07:31.920 --> 00:07:35.160 is still there, as it has been for longer than 141 00:07:35.240 --> 00:07:39.720 Alder can remember. And it is his to light, as 142 00:07:39.720 --> 00:07:43.519 it has been every evening for fifty one years. And 143 00:07:43.600 --> 00:07:47.959 he walks toward it slowly, the brass pole over his shoulder, 144 00:07:48.800 --> 00:07:52.759 the lantern swinging gently in his hand. The lamp is 145 00:07:52.800 --> 00:07:56.639 made of glass and iron, the glass clear and slightly 146 00:07:56.720 --> 00:07:59.959 green at the edges where it has aged, the eye 147 00:08:00.000 --> 00:08:04.040 birn black and pitted from years of rain and frost. 148 00:08:04.480 --> 00:08:06.639 There is a small door at the front of the lamp, 149 00:08:07.279 --> 00:08:10.920 a door that hinges open to reveal the inside, the 150 00:08:11.000 --> 00:08:14.639 hollow space where the flame will burn. The door is 151 00:08:14.680 --> 00:08:18.879 frosted with age and handling, and Alder opens it carefully, 152 00:08:19.519 --> 00:08:22.959 his fingers, knowing the motion, feeling for the latch that 153 00:08:23.040 --> 00:08:25.879 holds it in place. Inside the lamp, there is a 154 00:08:25.920 --> 00:08:30.319 reservoir of oil, a small brass bowl that holds enough 155 00:08:30.360 --> 00:08:33.399 oil to burn for hours. And there is a wick, 156 00:08:34.320 --> 00:08:37.399 a strip of woven cotton that rises from the bowl 157 00:08:37.600 --> 00:08:40.399 and reaches up toward the top of the lamp where 158 00:08:40.440 --> 00:08:43.559 the flame will dance. The wick is dark at the 159 00:08:43.679 --> 00:08:48.120 edges used, and Alder touches it gently with his thumb 160 00:08:48.200 --> 00:08:52.399 and forefinger, checking the length, making shore it is not 161 00:08:52.519 --> 00:08:56.080 too long and not too short, making sure it is 162 00:08:56.200 --> 00:08:59.159 ready to receive the flame. He brings the lantern close. 163 00:09:00.159 --> 00:09:03.399 The flame in the lantern is small and steady, a 164 00:09:03.440 --> 00:09:07.080 tongue of light, no longer than his smallest finger, and 165 00:09:07.159 --> 00:09:11.159 it leans slightly toward him, toward the wick, as if 166 00:09:11.159 --> 00:09:14.679 it is eager, as if it has been waiting. He 167 00:09:14.759 --> 00:09:17.919 tips the lantern carefully, and the flame touches the wick 168 00:09:18.120 --> 00:09:22.279 and catches, and there is a moment, a single held breath, 169 00:09:22.320 --> 00:09:25.639 of a moment when the wick glows and darkens, and 170 00:09:25.679 --> 00:09:31.279 then slowly, surely the flame takes hold. The flame grows, 171 00:09:31.919 --> 00:09:36.320 it steadies, It rises, a small bright point at the 172 00:09:36.360 --> 00:09:39.519 center of the lamp, and then a small bright point 173 00:09:39.559 --> 00:09:42.799 with a halo, a circle of light that widens and 174 00:09:42.879 --> 00:09:46.960 deepens and reaches outward. The glass catches it and holds it, 175 00:09:47.440 --> 00:09:51.200 and the light passes through, and suddenly the street is different. 176 00:09:51.960 --> 00:09:54.600 Suddenly there is a circle of warm gold on the 177 00:09:54.600 --> 00:09:57.440 wet cobblestones at the foot of the lamp. And the 178 00:09:57.519 --> 00:10:00.879 light reaches up the wall of the apothecary shop and 179 00:10:01.000 --> 00:10:04.240 finds the old sign with its faded letters, and it 180 00:10:04.320 --> 00:10:07.799 touches the iron bracket and makes it shine, and it 181 00:10:07.879 --> 00:10:10.799 reaches across the street to the opposite wall, where the 182 00:10:10.799 --> 00:10:14.279 plaster is cracked and the paint is peeling, and the 183 00:10:14.320 --> 00:10:17.039 cracks and the peeling paint become part of the light, 184 00:10:17.759 --> 00:10:21.440 become part of the pattern, become something other than decay. 185 00:10:22.159 --> 00:10:25.919 Alder watches the flame for a moment. He always watches. 186 00:10:26.559 --> 00:10:29.279 He never rushes away from a lamp after lighting it. 187 00:10:29.799 --> 00:10:33.039 He stands and he watches, and he makes sure that 188 00:10:33.120 --> 00:10:35.960 the flame is steady, that it is not flickering in 189 00:10:36.000 --> 00:10:40.600 a draft, that it is burning clean and bright and true. 190 00:10:40.639 --> 00:10:43.240 This is not a task to be hurried. This is 191 00:10:43.279 --> 00:10:46.639 not a task that rewards heaste. The flame must be 192 00:10:46.679 --> 00:10:50.639 given time to find itself, to settle, to become what 193 00:10:50.720 --> 00:10:54.360 it is going to become. And Alder gives it that time, 194 00:10:54.960 --> 00:10:59.919 standing quietly, the brass pole over his shoulder, the lantern 195 00:11:00.080 --> 00:11:04.440 in his hand, his breath slow and even in his chest. 196 00:11:04.679 --> 00:11:09.080 The lamp is burning well, the light is spreading. He 197 00:11:09.080 --> 00:11:14.000 can see the cobblestones now, each one distinct, each one 198 00:11:14.039 --> 00:11:18.000 a small flat stone, worn smooth by generations of feet. 199 00:11:18.679 --> 00:11:21.039 And he can see the gutter where the water is 200 00:11:21.080 --> 00:11:25.679 still running, a thin thread of dark water finding its 201 00:11:25.720 --> 00:11:28.240 way down the street toward the drain. And he can 202 00:11:28.279 --> 00:11:32.759 see the shadows, the shadows that the lamp makes, the 203 00:11:32.799 --> 00:11:36.240 shadows that are not dark but soft, that are not 204 00:11:36.440 --> 00:11:41.440 harsh but gentle, that bend and fold and settle into 205 00:11:41.480 --> 00:11:45.440 the corners and the doorways and the spaces beneath the windows. 206 00:11:45.639 --> 00:11:48.039 He turns from the first lamp, and he walks on, 207 00:11:48.559 --> 00:11:51.840 and the street opens before him, and you follow behind, 208 00:11:52.600 --> 00:11:57.039 your feet, finding the same cobblestones, your eyes adjusting to 209 00:11:57.080 --> 00:12:00.200 the new light, the light that changes the street from 210 00:12:00.200 --> 00:12:03.679 a daytime place to an evening place, from a place 211 00:12:03.720 --> 00:12:06.679 of work and noise and motion to a place of 212 00:12:06.799 --> 00:12:11.279 quiet and rest, and the slow accumulation of darkness. The 213 00:12:11.320 --> 00:12:14.320 second lamp is outside the bakery, and the bakery is 214 00:12:14.360 --> 00:12:17.360 still open, though not for long. The baker is a 215 00:12:17.399 --> 00:12:20.519 woman named Greta, and she is cleaning the front window 216 00:12:20.559 --> 00:12:23.720 with a cloth, wiping away the flower dust that is 217 00:12:23.759 --> 00:12:26.759 settled on the glass during the day. She sees Alder 218 00:12:26.799 --> 00:12:30.960 coming and she pauses, leaning on the cloth, watching him approach. 219 00:12:31.399 --> 00:12:34.759 There is a smile on her face, a small smile, 220 00:12:35.519 --> 00:12:39.279 the kind that comes from familiarity, from the knowledge of 221 00:12:39.320 --> 00:12:42.240 a person seen every day, the kind that does not 222 00:12:42.480 --> 00:12:45.759 need to be large to be real. Alder raises one 223 00:12:45.759 --> 00:12:50.159 hand in greeting, a small gesture, the lifting of two fingers, 224 00:12:50.600 --> 00:12:54.240 and Greta nods and goes back to her window, And 225 00:12:54.360 --> 00:12:57.919 Alder stops at the lamp outside the bakery and opens 226 00:12:57.919 --> 00:13:00.840 the small door and lights the whi with the flame 227 00:13:00.879 --> 00:13:04.000 from his lantern, and the light spills out across the 228 00:13:04.080 --> 00:13:07.200 sidewalk and finds the bottom of the window and the 229 00:13:07.240 --> 00:13:10.600 flower dust that is still clinging to the glass, and 230 00:13:10.679 --> 00:13:13.960 the flower dust catches the light and holds it, and 231 00:13:14.000 --> 00:13:16.679 for a moment the window seems to glow from within, 232 00:13:17.039 --> 00:13:19.720 as if the bread and the rolls and the cakes 233 00:13:19.720 --> 00:13:23.480 that are already sold and gone have left something behind, 234 00:13:24.080 --> 00:13:27.679 some warmth, some memory of flower and heat and the 235 00:13:27.759 --> 00:13:30.440 labor of the day. The third lamp is outside the 236 00:13:30.480 --> 00:13:34.639 copper's shop, and the copper is inside, still working, still 237 00:13:34.679 --> 00:13:38.200 shaving the long, curly strips of wood that will become barrels, 238 00:13:38.919 --> 00:13:42.519 the shavings falling to the floor in a soft brown heap. 239 00:13:43.120 --> 00:13:46.679 The smell of the wood is strong here, cedar and oak, 240 00:13:47.639 --> 00:13:49.840 and it mixes with the smell of the oil from 241 00:13:49.879 --> 00:13:52.759 the lamp, and the smell of the rain, and the 242 00:13:52.799 --> 00:13:55.799 smell of the street. An alder breeds it in as 243 00:13:55.840 --> 00:13:59.080 he lights the lamp, and his mind is empty of everything, 244 00:14:00.120 --> 00:14:03.399 or rather it holds nothing at all. He simply stands 245 00:14:03.519 --> 00:14:07.440 and breathes and watches the flame catch and hold. The 246 00:14:07.519 --> 00:14:10.000 fourth lamp is at the corner where the street bends, 247 00:14:10.519 --> 00:14:13.200 and there is a low wall. Here a wall may 248 00:14:13.240 --> 00:14:16.279 of the same cobblestones as the street, and on the 249 00:14:16.320 --> 00:14:19.440 wall there sits a cat. The cat is called Pudding, 250 00:14:19.879 --> 00:14:22.159 though Alder is not sure who named it or why 251 00:14:22.960 --> 00:14:25.240 it is an orange cat, or perhaps it was orange 252 00:14:25.279 --> 00:14:28.000 once and is now more the color of autumn leaves, 253 00:14:28.039 --> 00:14:31.600 faded and soft. It sits on the wall and watches 254 00:14:31.639 --> 00:14:34.600 Alder with eyes that are half closed, and when he 255 00:14:34.679 --> 00:14:38.399 passes it does not move, does not startle, simply watches, 256 00:14:39.159 --> 00:14:41.879 knowing that the lamp lighter is not a threat, knowing 257 00:14:41.919 --> 00:14:44.519 that the lamp lighter has passed this way every evening 258 00:14:44.879 --> 00:14:48.039 for as long as the cat has been alive, longer, 259 00:14:48.600 --> 00:14:51.559 knowing that the lamplighter is part of the street, as 260 00:14:51.679 --> 00:14:53.799 much a part of the street as the walls and 261 00:14:53.840 --> 00:14:57.399 the windows and the stones beneath the feet. The fifth 262 00:14:57.480 --> 00:15:00.080 lamp is outside the tailor's shop, and the tailor there 263 00:15:00.159 --> 00:15:02.480 is an old man named Fenwick who sits by the 264 00:15:02.519 --> 00:15:05.360 window in a chair that faces the street, and he 265 00:15:05.440 --> 00:15:07.919 is looking out at the evening at the lamp lighter 266 00:15:08.000 --> 00:15:11.799 passing at the light spreading across the sidewalk. Fenwick does 267 00:15:11.840 --> 00:15:16.639 not wave. He simply watches, his hands resting on the 268 00:15:16.759 --> 00:15:20.200 arms of the chair, his eyes following Alder as he 269 00:15:20.279 --> 00:15:23.559 moves from lamp to lamp as he opens the small 270 00:15:23.600 --> 00:15:27.279 door and brings the flame close, and watches the wick 271 00:15:27.440 --> 00:15:30.879 catch and the light spread. Fenwick has watched this every 272 00:15:30.960 --> 00:15:33.360 evening for as long as he has lived on this street, 273 00:15:33.919 --> 00:15:35.679 and he will watch it for as long as he 274 00:15:35.720 --> 00:15:40.039 continues to live here. And there is comfort in this comfort, 275 00:15:40.080 --> 00:15:43.840 in the repetition, in the sameness, in the knowledge that 276 00:15:43.960 --> 00:15:48.080 some things do not change. The sixth lamp, the seventh, 277 00:15:48.399 --> 00:15:52.759 the eighth, the ninth. They pass in a slow procession, 278 00:15:53.440 --> 00:15:57.480 each one the same and each one different, each one 279 00:15:57.519 --> 00:16:02.480 with its own small details, its own small variations. A 280 00:16:02.559 --> 00:16:05.919 crack in the glass that catches the light, a bracket 281 00:16:05.960 --> 00:16:09.159 that has rusted slightly and leans a few degrees off center. 282 00:16:09.919 --> 00:16:12.879 A cobblestone directly beneath the lamp that is darker than 283 00:16:12.919 --> 00:16:16.240 the others, worn smooth by the drip of oil over 284 00:16:16.320 --> 00:16:19.840 many years. These are the things that Alder sees, the 285 00:16:19.840 --> 00:16:22.200 things that he has seen so many times that they 286 00:16:22.200 --> 00:16:25.000 have become part of him, part of the fabric of 287 00:16:25.000 --> 00:16:28.200 his days. And he moves among them as a musician 288 00:16:28.320 --> 00:16:31.960 moves among the notes of a familiar song, not attending 289 00:16:32.000 --> 00:16:35.519 to each one individually, but letting them flow together into 290 00:16:35.559 --> 00:16:39.519 the larger shape, the larger form, the melody of the evening. 291 00:16:39.759 --> 00:16:42.879 By the ninth lamp, the street has changed again. It 292 00:16:42.960 --> 00:16:46.600 is darker now, or rather the light is more concentrated, 293 00:16:47.080 --> 00:16:51.279 more defined, the circles of gold from the lamps overlapping 294 00:16:51.399 --> 00:16:54.440 and merging into a single ribbon of warm light that 295 00:16:54.559 --> 00:16:57.200 runs down the center of the street, like a river 296 00:16:57.360 --> 00:17:00.320 of honey, like a vein of gold in a piece 297 00:17:00.360 --> 00:17:03.200 of dark wood. The shadows are deeper in the doorways, 298 00:17:03.240 --> 00:17:07.079 in the alleys, but they are not frightening shadows. They 299 00:17:07.079 --> 00:17:11.000 are the shadows of home, the shadows of rest, the 300 00:17:11.039 --> 00:17:14.240 shadows that gather in the places where the day cannot reach. 301 00:17:14.960 --> 00:17:18.640 And Alder walks through them and pass them, and does 302 00:17:18.680 --> 00:17:21.599 not look at them with fear, because there is nothing 303 00:17:21.720 --> 00:17:24.680 in them to fear. The tenth lamp is outside the 304 00:17:24.680 --> 00:17:28.160 house with the blue door, the house where the family lives, 305 00:17:28.720 --> 00:17:31.400 the family with the three children who are always running 306 00:17:31.440 --> 00:17:34.359 in and out, the family with the mother who hangs 307 00:17:34.440 --> 00:17:37.640 laundry in the yard, and the father who repairs fishing 308 00:17:37.680 --> 00:17:40.680 nets in the workshop behind the house. The blue door 309 00:17:40.759 --> 00:17:44.480 is closed now, but the window is lit, and through 310 00:17:44.519 --> 00:17:47.640 the window Alder can see movement. The shapes of the 311 00:17:47.720 --> 00:17:51.039 children being shepherded toward bed, the shape of the mother 312 00:17:51.119 --> 00:17:54.200 bending to straighten a rug, the shape of the father 313 00:17:54.319 --> 00:17:57.440 setting down a tool and stretching his arms above his head. 314 00:17:58.000 --> 00:18:00.400 He stops at the lamp, and he lights it. And 315 00:18:00.440 --> 00:18:03.000 the light finds the blue door and makes it bluer, 316 00:18:03.680 --> 00:18:05.920 makes it stand out from the dark wood of the frame. 317 00:18:06.519 --> 00:18:09.319 And it finds the brass handle that is always polished, 318 00:18:09.799 --> 00:18:13.880 always shining, And it finds the step, the stone step 319 00:18:13.960 --> 00:18:16.680 worn smooth by the feet of the family, by the 320 00:18:16.680 --> 00:18:19.720 feet of visitors in neighbors, and the mail carrier who 321 00:18:19.720 --> 00:18:24.119 comes every morning except Sundays. The eleventh lamp, the twelfth, 322 00:18:24.440 --> 00:18:27.480 the thirteenth. The street is changing as he moves through it, 323 00:18:27.839 --> 00:18:30.720 or rather it is remaining the same, while his perception 324 00:18:30.799 --> 00:18:34.240 of it changes, his eyes adjusting to the growing darkness, 325 00:18:34.640 --> 00:18:38.000 his other senses sharpening to compensate. He can hear the 326 00:18:38.039 --> 00:18:41.000 sound of his own footsteps, the soft tap of his 327 00:18:41.079 --> 00:18:44.359 boots on the cobblestones, the faint creak of the brass 328 00:18:44.400 --> 00:18:47.200 pole over his shoulder. He can hear the sound of 329 00:18:47.240 --> 00:18:50.680 the flame in each lamp, a tiny hiss, a soft 330 00:18:50.720 --> 00:18:54.440 breath of light consuming oil, and he can hear beneath 331 00:18:54.480 --> 00:18:58.279 that the sounds of the houses, the muffled voices, the 332 00:18:58.359 --> 00:19:01.720 clink of dishes being washed, the creak of a floor board, 333 00:19:02.200 --> 00:19:04.039 the far off bark of a daub that is not 334 00:19:04.160 --> 00:19:06.960 on this street, but somewhere beyond, in another part of 335 00:19:06.960 --> 00:19:09.799 the town. The fourteenth lamp is outside the window where 336 00:19:09.799 --> 00:19:13.440 the child sits. The child is a girl, or perhaps 337 00:19:13.519 --> 00:19:17.920 a boy, Alder has never been quite sure. And the 338 00:19:18.000 --> 00:19:21.039 child is always at this window at this time of evening, 339 00:19:21.799 --> 00:19:23.839 sitting on a stool that brings them up to the 340 00:19:23.920 --> 00:19:27.039 level of the sill, their face lit from below by 341 00:19:27.079 --> 00:19:29.920 the light in the room behind them. The child waves 342 00:19:29.960 --> 00:19:35.599 every night, every night, without fail. As Alder passes, the 343 00:19:35.720 --> 00:19:39.160 child raises a hand and waves a small wave, a 344 00:19:39.240 --> 00:19:42.160 simple wave, the kind that a child gives to someone 345 00:19:42.240 --> 00:19:44.880 they know and trust and are glad to see. Alder 346 00:19:44.920 --> 00:19:47.920 waves back. He does not shout or call out. He 347 00:19:48.000 --> 00:19:51.240 simply raises one hand, the hand that is not holding 348 00:19:51.279 --> 00:19:55.119 the lantern, and he holds it there for a moment. Palm, open, 349 00:19:55.480 --> 00:19:59.039 fingers spread, a greeting that needs no words, that speaks 350 00:19:59.079 --> 00:20:02.640 for itself, that says I see you, and you see me, 351 00:20:03.000 --> 00:20:05.599 and we are both here to night, both of us 352 00:20:05.640 --> 00:20:08.519 in our places on this street, and there is comfort 353 00:20:08.559 --> 00:20:11.119 in that. There is a kind of quiet joy in 354 00:20:11.160 --> 00:20:14.880 that simple recognition. The child smiles and withdraws an Alder 355 00:20:14.920 --> 00:20:17.079 moves on, and the lamp at the corner of the 356 00:20:17.119 --> 00:20:20.119 house flares and settles and casts its light across the 357 00:20:20.200 --> 00:20:22.759 sidewalk and up the wall and into the window where 358 00:20:22.759 --> 00:20:26.480 the child was. Though the child is gone now, back 359 00:20:26.519 --> 00:20:28.799 to the warmth and the safety of the room. Behind 360 00:20:29.119 --> 00:20:33.640 the fifteenth lamp, the sixteenth, the seventeenth, The street is 361 00:20:33.680 --> 00:20:37.480 still changing, or rather it is completing itself, filling in 362 00:20:37.519 --> 00:20:40.400 the spaces between the lamps with the quality of the evening, 363 00:20:40.519 --> 00:20:43.319 with a particular quality of light that exists only in 364 00:20:43.400 --> 00:20:46.640 the hour after dusk and before full dark, when the 365 00:20:46.680 --> 00:20:49.680 world is neither day nor night, but something in between, 366 00:20:50.359 --> 00:20:53.720 something that holds both in suspension, both the memory of 367 00:20:53.759 --> 00:20:56.400 the light that was and the promise of the darkness 368 00:20:56.400 --> 00:20:59.480 that is coming. The eighteenth lamp is outside the house 369 00:20:59.519 --> 00:21:02.599 of the widow. The widow is a woman named Claire, 370 00:21:03.200 --> 00:21:05.440 and she has lived on this street for longer than 371 00:21:05.480 --> 00:21:08.039 Alder has been a lamp lighter, though not by much. 372 00:21:08.759 --> 00:21:11.160 Her husband was a fisherman, and he was lost at 373 00:21:11.200 --> 00:21:14.640 sea many years ago in a storm that Alder remembers, 374 00:21:14.960 --> 00:21:17.279 a storm that bent the trees and tore the roose 375 00:21:17.319 --> 00:21:19.839 from some of the houses, and left the street strewn 376 00:21:19.880 --> 00:21:23.039 with branches and debris. The fishermen did not come home, 377 00:21:23.559 --> 00:21:26.720 and the widow has lived alone ever since, in the 378 00:21:26.759 --> 00:21:29.759 house with the green shutters, the house with the small 379 00:21:29.839 --> 00:21:33.200 garden in the front, where she grows herbs and vegetables 380 00:21:33.200 --> 00:21:38.319 and sometimes flowers, though not many, not any more. Every night, 381 00:21:38.440 --> 00:21:41.200 when Alder passes, there is a cup on the step. 382 00:21:41.920 --> 00:21:45.599 The cup is filled with broth or sometimes tea, or 383 00:21:45.680 --> 00:21:49.160 sometimes just hot water, with a slice of lemon, and 384 00:21:49.240 --> 00:21:51.640 it is there for him, set down on the step 385 00:21:51.680 --> 00:21:54.359 while the lamp is still dark, waiting for him to 386 00:21:54.440 --> 00:21:58.839 find it. He does not always drink it. Sometimes he 387 00:21:58.960 --> 00:22:02.680 is not hungry, or the walk is too short, or 388 00:22:02.720 --> 00:22:05.680 the broth is too hot, and he simply lifts the 389 00:22:05.720 --> 00:22:09.559 cup and thanks her. Though she cannot hear him, or 390 00:22:09.599 --> 00:22:13.519 perhaps she can, perhaps she is listening from somewhere behind 391 00:22:13.599 --> 00:22:16.640 the curtain, watching him through the crack in the door. 392 00:22:18.119 --> 00:22:22.599 Tonight the cup is there, as it always is, and 393 00:22:22.640 --> 00:22:27.680 tonight it is broth, a thin broth with the smell 394 00:22:27.720 --> 00:22:31.839 of onion and carrot and the faintest trace of bay leaf. 395 00:22:32.759 --> 00:22:35.720 He lifts the cup and he holds it for a moment, 396 00:22:36.400 --> 00:22:39.720 feeling the warmth of it through the ceramic and he 397 00:22:39.799 --> 00:22:43.359 looks at the door, at the green shutter, at the 398 00:22:43.440 --> 00:22:46.880 window where the light is still burning, and he nods 399 00:22:47.559 --> 00:22:51.160 a small nod, a nod that is meant for her, 400 00:22:51.440 --> 00:22:55.200 even though she cannot see it. And he drinks. The 401 00:22:55.240 --> 00:22:58.920