I'm sitting at my computer. Its just after 5am. I'm tired but I'm wired and so I've decided to start writing a blog. Hopefully I will distill some meaningful ideas from all of the half baked imagery and frustrated thoughts that crowd my brain and prevent me from turning in.
Living in the city really makes one want to go out into the country and wander in meadows filled with wild flowers and butterflies. Similarly, living in the country makes one yearn for the vibrancy of the city. Coming into a city at night, one is compelled by a multitude of illuminated interiors, a different life around each. From a moving window, one notes the urgency with which people attend their engagements and the efforts they've made. We see concrete rivers and stainless steel steeples and we know that we are in the city.
The city of humans.
I'm smoking a joint out back, looking at a pigeon on the adjacent warehouse, wondering if its a pigeon. Its a wet and cloudy start to the day. A van pulls into the back lane to do a u-turn, and stops to deliver the papers to the newsagent. There's half an inch of water in the ashtray. There must be something wrong with me.
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