words by sean hamilton
photos by alexis adrian
nights like these.
summer nights are hard to pin down.
sure, sometimes it's easier to find a reason to stay in. the heat. the long day. a fridge with a couple of beers left from the weekend. but some nights, something nudges. you catch yourself lacing up before you’ve even made the decision.
no plan. maybe no place or pace in mind.
the city is still radiating heat. stored up from the afternoon and clinging to every surface. the walls sweat. the sky holds back.
it’s not always comfortable, but it’s alive.
you can start slow. you should start slow.
legs a little thuddy. the air filled with static. a playlist for this, if there was one, would sound like a corner store fridge hum.
or voices floating through screen windows. maybe some bike tires rolling over bottle caps. or how about bass from a car stopped too long at the light.
everything in sync, in its own off beat way.
and just like summer days, you move through it.
eventually, maybe there’s a rooftop. a drink. a pool.
a couple of friends. shirts on or off. shoes on or off. hanging around or heading straight in. maybe that’s it for the run. maybe there’s another one after. a new cacophony of sound and sight.
nights like these, it's more than okay to lose track of when the movement ends and the moment begins.
that’s the thing about summer nights. you give them something, a little time, a little sweat, a little momentum.
and more often than not, they hand you something unexpected back.
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