The city is always awake, always thrumming the tones of life, always filled up to the brim with so many things one could never quite catch up. I live in this city, where the lights are like suns that never leave for the other side of the world, perpetually present. I live in this city, where the air is tainted a drab gray from all the smoke, where the streets are littered with garbage pretending to be wild flowers and failing at it miserably, where vehicles provide the music to which everyone unconsciously dances.
I wonder, does this city ever get tired from all the unnecessary motion?
An urgency flows in my veins, that I must get out, leave.
My life is being compromised just by living in this city.
I wonder, what would life be like somewhere else?
Maybe I am a prisoner of this city.
But this is where I first learned of freedom. And somehow, that makes it unlike any other place.
Yet nothing can stop me from asking this city to stop, just for a little while. Let me rest with you.