This thought turns most often during flight take-off and biking in the silent night streets. Constructed and arranged, called a city, more it seems a thin crust delicately draped on the earth. Frail, slow nudges push cracks in through cement with dirt breathing again. Thin, incomparrably so, in contrast to the deep and solid of everything below. We make, covet, fight over, this terribly temporary shell. Basic in our nature, to abstract and shape what we contact, until it pleases and suits our motions.

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.