City 1

The city buzzes with movement, footsteps can be heard early, and cigarettes are lit on every corner as the coffee brews. The birds on these newfound nursing tre...
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The city buzzes with movement, footsteps can be heard early, and cigarettes are lit on every corner as the coffee brews. The birds on these newfound nursing trees, on this grey avenue intersection are trying to find a new melody. Cars honk, streetcars fly, and the air is thick with grey. They fly on adjusting their ways, adjusting their melodies, and breaking their own personal evolution. Somewhere in this human pollution they were lost to screens, noise and superficiality. There were rumours of souls being washed up from used TVs and cellular phones. We fear we have lost our souls to the bleak. Perhaps because we have mistaken quick lived fun for happiness.
She drinks her morning coffee with yellowed fingers, passing pictures on her phone, waiting for the reactions to come in for her new scandalous artistically done picture. Her painted face hides her hard life. She breathes out more smoke, the birds have gone and all that is left is this beautiful grey morning which has enveloped her life.
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