A caricature of the concrete jungle startles me. So does the imagination of the solace urban folks seek there. Just a bunch of buildings and more streets, filled with loitering beings rushing busy with their bizz.
But, you see, minds as mine love roaming bees on colored tree parts and some dancing on fly skies. Down in the countryside. Where Kings and queens, laid on backs and wondered on all the serene mother nature offered on those days.
I despise the fast foods scenes on hue colored rooms. Low lit, slow jazz humming on the background, with shy folks showing off their upbeat urban breeze hype. Exchanging talks or maybe just eating away their emptiness via the juicy steaks burned on those grill flames.
I rather be, where I see crops grow and farm animals glow on twee ranches. A day’s toil here means your hard work comes to fruition another day there. I rather be, with simple folks back there, than see another folk live a lie here.
The pollution, the sordid view of city walks, leaves me cursing this age. With all the loud hoots of motorists yearning for rest in their caves made of walls that act as prison cages of families enclosed within.
I opt the rural side, it may not have neon lights nor concrete sidewalk paths, but it has peace of mind. Just before the break of daylight, you hear a moo here, another on the distant hills, yet your soul is intact. On dark nights, after the cow’s milk has been let to pasteurise on soot covered sufurias, you can beam out the cracked roof tiles and see the milky way on the horizon there.
Then, in mind you know the satisfaction of a noble mind. To live amongst simple folks with little to hide. Then, you appreciate all the glamour countryside has to offer and why only the greats love a little peace of this little piece of wander. It’s raw, untempered, and that’s where I seek to be every waking happy moment of my life.