Dusk breathes. The air hovers just above head height between two buildings - a vertical majesty. The sky is such a beautiful colour sitting between a darker shade of blue and grey. A sort of brightness to it. It is
energy. It is possibility. It is alive. It is youth - vibrant - it is breathing. Lights begin to emerge, smells permeate the pavement, an aroma of population, consumption, business and capital.
There is an essence beside all this. It settles between the buildings in the gap painted with a white dotted stripe. It moves up and down through the city. A creature who owns and knows. Loves and thrives on the city. It should be my own blood.
And in my lungs. It should be my head weight - always.
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