Lights in the Distance

A dark, gloomy day - twilight seemed to fall at about 3:00pm this afternoon. Rain this evening when I walk home. Wet-slick pavements. A pot of tea in Waterstones with Em after work, looking down West Street. My reflection in the glass. Through myself, I see, between the buildings across the streets, the distant lights of East Brighton. Remember Joe once saying how the east side of towns and cities are always poorer than the west.
From where I sit at work, I can see cranes in the distance. I think they're part of the construction site for the new American Express building. They don't move - at least not when I'm looking - but today, in that thick, hypnotic haze, they were lit by lights -lamps of a kind - amongst their structures. Actually the lights, a pale white-yellow, didn't really light them at all, they just glowed balefully in the scaffold-like structures, doleful as sad and resentful dogs.
I remember last year. Where I sat at my old desk - my first desk at the call centre - I remember being fascinated by those cluster of distant lights on top of a hill. Glittering in the early twilights, I wondered what it would be like to wait under those lights, and watch the call centre from there. Since last year, I think I've worked out they are at the top of Bear Road. I have some time off work at the end of the month. Perhaps I shall go there then, wait for evening to come, and as the night swells, find myself part of the distance, whose lights I have always seemed to watch.