You turned into someone else's block. Darkness shorted the street lamp out, and it, throwing crackle around,

You turned into someone else's block. Darkness shorted the street lamp out, and it, throwing crackle around, was going mad from solitude. You realised you'd got well and truly lost, and that you ought to head back. But the lamp shouted after you desperately — it was ready to crack up: where there's no Sun — Run! Darkness is good only then, when you know that the light will come back! The light left this place three hundred years ago, on that very day the Sun went out, choked on something? And onto the kerbs made of fences marched the parade of eternal darkness, and the sky with a black film was covered over. No pushing through, no getting past — forward, over-above, your movements were all at random… You slipped, flew, You understood: here it is, hell, but you woke up in time all the same.