Concrete Jungle

Definitely city talk, city time, description. Something. It’s all concrete, steel, buildings, cars, pavements, tarmacked roads. For every retail outfit, there is a building. Huge. Square. Triangular. Polygonal. round. For every building that stands surrounded, roads curled around them, the pavements barely fend off the giant sores.

But as as the asphalt fades into concrete and the buildings recede, the natural landscape reasserts itself and interrupts the grey with green and brown. Other colours soon intrude, their inclusion subtle, unnoticeable but welcome.

And the din, cacophony of the inner diminishes into just traffic and silence with soothing interruptions from birds, cats and dogs. The occasional insect buzzes close by but blends into the background noise. Eventually, traffic noise is swallowed as natural silence takes over. And the wilderness exerts its raw beauty and eternal majesty. A soundless power that awes, humbles and comforts. Its welcoming embrace calms and renews. Its tranquility a restful chorus for worn ears. And its music a balm for frayed nerves and a gouged soul.

Such is the mix of this city.

Concrete jungle.

Natural jungle.

Concrete Jungle

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