I went for a walk in the late evening to be able to see the reflection of street lights on the cobblestones wet with fresh rain. I realised, however, that the aesthetic effect is much stronger when experienced with an unsharpened eye, without consciously directing the attention to the object.
October 2011
In the square in front of the cathedral one can mainly hear Russian. The speakers of this language strolling here in one evening during their three-day trip are almost always clearly distinguishable from those who call this city home. Most of them are coming from the direction of the Stenbock House. No one comes from there, and almost no one goes there alone.
Few couples are returning from there today, in contrast to a number of groups, usually made of a man and several women, who seem to be enjoying themselves and who, by the way, are not a cause for unease for the rare loners who happen to be wandering around here. These groups don’t make much noise. In fact, the trips of middle-aged couples and family-oriented people often look like one long, hesitant walk on an unsafe terrain. Occasionally, a few locals do find their way here, but they are almost always isolated in cars.
This is not a city of orgies. No one tries to ask the passers-by for directions or for a cigarette. No one is checked out by others. Everyone passes by quickly. Even the mandatory photos of the cathedral are mostly taken on the run, without really registering what it is. Two towers in the distance invite the visitor to proceed towards more interesting objects, eager to be captured by the camera’s eye. It looks like everything important happens somewhere else.
And everything does happen elsewhere. It is always quiet in Toompea. Friday and Saturday nights are no different here than any other day. Tourist groups, which are more numerous here in daytime, create a buzz rather than noise. Even people from the countries where it is common to speak in forte do so here in a mild tone of voice.
This evening, the spire of the Town Hall, rising to the sky like an ornate paper knife, seems to have kept the firmament under pressure for so long that a bruise of pale pink has formed around it. In the Lower Town, it has saturated the air like a cry, but here it is just a new backdrop offered to the viewers, appropriate to the time of the day, blending with the grey square cobblestones.
Autumn 2012