I truly love cities.
Specifically, I love sitting atop a building on the eve of a shiny new day, drinking up the fumes from a pilfered cigarette and the acrid bite of a filter coffee, feeling the hum of the beautiful machine under my scuffed converse sneakers. Imagining the millions of people just beginning to leave their homes, each on their own unique crusade, but each adding to this incredible construction that we dub society.
Although I’m always alone at these moments, I can almost feel tangible threads, blazing and lustrous, snaking from the soles of my sneakers down the chrome super-structure into the buildings and homes below, inextricably tethering me to every single one of these other individuals. I can almost taste the incredible plethora of their hallowed hopes, the paralysing flame of their fears, the carnal pulsation of their desires.
It doesn’t matter in which city I stand, clutching my brew and puffing on my cancer stick – illustrious New York, vibrant Hong Kong, bustling Sydney, or even cosmopolitan Cape Town. I’ve drank in each of their morning sunrises and in each felt the strands of the synchronicity binding us.
With these beautiful ties to the rest of the world, how is it possible that anyone can feel alone?
(…Just a thought)