I am never in need of a map, except for when I attempt to explore
someone else’s mind. I wander streets I can’t pronounce to find graveyards;
open fields; skyscrapers and wells. You are a city and I want to know your
suburbs. I’d like to know your poor neighborhoods. Your backroads littered with
garbage and cracking asphalt. Listen to your symphonies of warning sirens and
distant shouting. I want to see the non-touristy parts; your inner parts.
No comments:
Post a Comment