Skyscrapers are so high, they seem to touch the blue sky, as it passes by. Freely the puffy white clouds fly, as the birds fly a mile-high. A pigeon peeks down from it's perch on a high-rises.
The scent of the beautiful fresh flowers, mangled by the ripe odor of car exhaust. The smooth sounds, of an expensive sports car race through an downtown alley. The roar of the aggressive European engine echoes across the walls of surrounding building, as it whips through the street.
A thin lip of smoke swirls from the end of a lite cigarettes, burning on the side walk.
Small bursts of wind, carry the lingering stench of sewage and motor oil. Steam spews from the hot pavement.
People hurry to their destinations. Their footsteps beating down on the concrete the raindrops of a rainstorm. Absent of any cadence, they walk like soldier ants, marching through the streets of Manhattan.
Ear buds plugging their ears, from the orchestra of sounds surrounding them.
Two thousand blank stares of empty eyes, gazing off into the distance, absent of the present of moment and time. A zombie like state rooted by thoughtless thoughts; and routine action.
So many sluggish demeanors, mixed with confident egos. Broken spirits mixed with broken hearts. lost dreams mixed with new dreamers. All these familiar faces in unfamiliar places. A melting *** of different races, styles and graces. Old legends with new faces, in strange places. All in the same place, with a different state of mind.
A big city, with a life of it's own, that strangers call home. A subway, with graffiti. Street corners for the needy, my kind of city.
