Many of my friends hated the city, its pollution. They complained of its many cars, the bubblegum sidewalk stains, the smog. The way the sky never darkened; it was more often than naught that a
club was darker than the outer sky.
I love the city. I love the way it smells; the pollution was the nutmeg on the pumpkin pie. The lights were like magic,
illuminating the night sky, revealing all. Dirt on the street was just the way it was- it was just the way humanity was made to live. We weren’t made to be in the middle of nowhere, we weren’t made
to be squeaky clean with white being separate from dark.
The city reflected society; with the bums on the street and the Armani suited men in limos. The hierarchy of life is situated in
any modern city- all you have to do is look for it.
Many of my friends hated the city, its population. There were complaints of the crowds, and the cars. I heard jokes of the skater
boys on the subways, and the arduous traffic. It was irritating; couldn’t they see that people need one another?
We need to compare ourselves to the too-old men still going to skating parks, and to be pushed in an elevator. If we were the only
ones buying tickets for the Blue Line at the station, life would have no fun. We would be stuck in routine, never being surprised by the odd bum screaming out nonsensical hysterics or the sexy
Prada-suited men returning after life-changing deals at work.
Humans watch the world rotate around us and we don’t see the way it affects us enough. Without the busy schedules of the city folk
or the sun-up to sun-down schedules of the farm life there would be no schedules at all. No world to rotate about us. No bubble gum stains on the sidewalk to complain of. No pollution to protest
against. Nothing at all.
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