The Sentinels

When I was growing up, I lived opposite a fourteen-storey tower. At night a red light glowed on top of it, to ward off low-flying aircraft.

I used to fall asleep staring into that light. Back then I was a radical socialist. (I picked it up from my environment.) I remember seeing the red light as a symbol of a future socialist world. One way or another, it comforted me. The tower no longer exists.

Then, in my twenties or thirties, I remember taking comfort from an orange streetlight that was just outside my front garden.

Currently, I live in a block of apartments. There's a globe-shaped light just outside the gate to its carpark. It gives off a pleasant amber glow all through the hours of darkness. I like to look at it when I get up during the night.

I know lights can't be sentinels. They're just lights. But it's amazing how much they please and beguile me. They shine through the night, whether I'm looking at them or not, watching over my sleep.