Urban Freedom
The theme of a wandering soul lost in the concrete jungle, stumbling and staggering, is one well documented. But what when that wandering soul finds the peace within the madness? What when they spot the light streaming through the alabaster branches of skyscrapers? What when they see a little daisy bloom in the midst of metal and glass? When night falls like a cloak of blackness, and if you're high enough, you can see the fireflies. Not ones that fly, but nevertheless ones that blink out when dawn approaches. They're all the hues and shades - easily mistaken for light pollution. And then you look closer, and all you see is their unique beauty too. Roars and snarls of the traffic. Whimpers of horns. The mumble of an endless mass of public. And in some little pockets of solitude - if you listen close - you can hear the trill of nature too. At night, the crickets still chirp. At dawn, the birds still sing. Sometimes you feel suffocated, and everything closes in, setting ...