November 06 2015

When in the countryside with rural folk, which is a surprising amount for a city boy like me, what I want to ask is “How come you’re not so bored that you just kill yourself?”. But I’ve learnt from the looks that I get that you shouldn't say those sort of things out loud. So now I just shake my head and ask “Why?” they seem to know what I’m talking about. When I do, more often than not, the country person will puff out their chest and say something like “well for starters, views like that” and point at some hills or sheep or something. And while, in general, it's nice, it's definitely not enough to stave off the boredom that would have my tying myself to a tractor exhaust and asphxiwanking myself to a permanent nap.

I have a real problem with the idea that the countryside is the only place to see a stunning sunset or beautiful views. The difference is not that the countryside isn't beautiful to me, it's just beautiful in an boring obvious way. The city requires a little widening of your definitions before you're really can enjoy it. its an aquired taste like whiskey or snuff. But like any acquired taste when you get it you can never really love anything else.

Today I watched the late winter sun push its way through a thick fog that seemed to be swallowing the buildings - it looked like a dream described by a child. I’ve sat on a window ledge eleven stories up and watched the cars beneath paint abstract art with their lights. And I’ve seen tight groups of kids turn the streets into a playground jumping and flipping off street furniture that were practically invisible before.

Our cities are where we rub our humanity against each other and that frictions sparks culture, fights and fire that fuels our progress as a species. The countryside is where cows live. One day spent in the shadows and alleys is ten years out in the fields. The country folk will never know or understand the perfect doomed beauty of that moment when you catch someone's eye as they walk past and you both fall deeply in love for that second and know you'll never see each other again.

Accelerated wisdom and joyful heartbreak twenty times a minute treading the tributaries, alive and reborn every morning in glass forests hunting for the things we cannot name

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