City

Ah, the magnificent city, nestled in the mountains, cupping it, the gentle hand of the mother earth. There is beauty in its corruption, the gleam of the sun on glass, sparkling from a thousand thousand points, the rainbow shine on oil-slicked water. The great white marshmallow dome at the center of the city makes an awesome and exotic punctuation mark on the view, surrounded by the great fingers of tall buildings thrusting proudly towards the heavens. The tiny insect vehicles move quickly and noisily along their paths. From near and far come the noises; sirens, tires, engines, car alarms.

People walk by draped in soft clothing, laughing, talking, their cheeks rosy, their eyes bright, their hair glossy and full. These people have not known true hunger. Their teeth are whole and sound, their bones straight. Here even the poorest is wealthy enough to find a meal each day. Even the homeless can change their clothes!

At night the lights strung up against the hills appear as a diamond necklace in the sky. They hang over the gleaming, sparkling, brilliantly lit city, bold testimony to a bold civilisation. Below, lights, some random, some in patterns, so bright they've stolen the starts from teh sky to light the streets. All night the roaring tumult comes stirring through the heated air fo the city. Air which hangs as an ocher smudge against the sky by day.

Great shining tower of a city, with needles floating in the bay, tampons washed upon the shore. Don't let your children play in the water, but gaze all day at its beauty. The weeds in the litter-strewn lot make of it a colorful mosaic against the backdrop of ivy covered walls, as pleasing to the eyes as it is horrifying to the mind. There is beauty in this corruption.