City I

City. As I remember it.

Through the mist of imperfect human brain I remember the day I arrived. Or rather through the rain. Heavy rain. Walking alone through the night to the bust stop. It was not the first time that such weather would make me company through moments of impactful change. And certainly not the last one.

On arrival presenting itself as what I would back then perceive (considering myself very insightful and no doubt very modest) as something that would not be hard to interpret as a sin city. Certainly some parts of the city can be perceived as such, especially with an eye untrained to recognize its beauty.

It was not very long after my arrival that I have subconsciously started calling it home. Most of my (very few) friends lived there and I was about to make couple more over the time.

Eyes closed I can bring back memories of looking at the city. Various points in time and space. Sometimes focusing on details, sometimes letting in broader picture. Soaking in views that various places had to offer, some of them in the centre, some of them on a periphery. Knowing where you are just by a glimpse at the nearby litter bin or manhole cover. Taking pictures of those was fun.

Walking. Destination long forgotten. Colourful leaves under my feet cover whole pavement. Legs, usually racing, now almost playful, move in a way to make as much as possible of the lovely noise to caress the mind through ears. Red, yellow, orange, and brown of fauna against the blue sky brightened by friendly sunbeams. Complemented by melancholy of rainy days. Long walks. City is mine. Everybody else hides in the comfort of their cosy homes. I like that.

All leaves has fallen, and black guardians come as a balancing force against the blinding whiteness of snow. Winter. Park. Standing. Waiting. Looking at the tree. Wearing black. And the crow is looking back, assessing risks of offered walnut being just a bait luring him into a trap which even his intelligence can not uncover. Time is slow. Or maybe some of his comrades will come first? It is a game of nerves. I raise the stakes by throwing in another oily goodie. This game can last very long.

Walking through thick fog. Air full of water. Enjoying every breath of unusual substance. Even the light has trouble penetrating this moist curtain. Visible light cones under every street light. And glowing trees. More walking. Watching city from any of many lookout places. Distant traffic lights suddenly switch to night mode, orange light blinking with what feels like ever decreasing frequency. But you know it is just your perception of time that is changing.

More walking. Snow disappears and temporal muddy mood gets very soon replaced by delight of green so vivid, that it seems it is the colour of life itself. And magnolia trees. There are not many of them, but it is so worth to take a detour just to see them. You are just roaming around anyway.

And summer. Hot days. City gets noticeably emptier as students leave the city. Them leaving and coming back is the breath of the city. Bringing in new ideas and spreading others. Even nights are hot.

Being part of the city. Midnight shopping. Sitting in the park at 2am, eating what nearby chain grocery store had to offer at such time.

It truly felt a home. Was a home. So I had to leave. To fall for another city. Maybe.