I’ve always liked alleys. It may simply be a continuation of my love for narrow streets. Or it may be because alleys are alternative universes, passages that take you behind the scenes. The front of a house or store is what the owners would like you to see; the alley provides another glimpse — the dirty laundry (sometimes literally). In an alley you see the garbage cans, the old car, the rusty rake or shovel (or, in the case of the photo above, a window on moving day).

Unlike wide thoroughfares, alleys are cozy for the walker. You feel nicely held in by them. They are comforting. Unless they are dangerous, which of course they sometimes are.

My office window faces an alley. It’s a broad, well-lit alley, as alleys go, a working passage with a small loading dock. When my office suddenly goes dark I know it’s either because the sun has gone behind a cloud or the UPS truck is making a delivery. My alley isn’t dangerous, but questionable characters have been known to wander there and do things they wouldn’t do out in the open.

In other words, alleys are never dull.