A city incomplete. Orange vibrance directs every corner. Its
edges are rough, each turn of the
wheel testing my shocks
as asphalt ebbs and flows
beneath me. Each turn is chaos,
each location new and different. A city lost among itself. Still, each
turn brings with it cobblestone roads and ancient paintings, museums and tourists and beggers, some sitting under bridges, huddled around
a fire. I burn, too, teeth still chattering,
at home among the chaos. A city with plenty of past, looking forward. It
isn't hard to relate.