Since I’m on my winter break, and have finally had some time to write for the pure sake of writing–versus a grade or assignment–I wrote out this little tableau today and thought I’d share it. It’s just a little rambling of my mind, put into story form…

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He saw the city as the biologist sees both the subtle beauties and horrors of nature, saw the culmination of injustice and success as well-played roles of romantic grandeur and torment. To him, us petty humans were the most heart-rending beings of evil and goodness who went about in our daily lives steeped in ignorance and hope. He saw us all as a hopeless cause of beautiful dreamers trying to calculate the fastest route to heaven. He was in love with Man, writing poetry on the subtle as well as grand achievements that had been accomplished by this great object of his meditations. Yet, as he walked past the young boy who sat in grey-brown rags at his feet, he didn’t think twice about leaving the spare jingling change inside of his pockets, regardless of the sound being music to the boy’s dirt-laiden ears.

She saw the city as a horrible, belching, bureaucratic machine, whose tiny moving parts went unnoticed within its shiny veneer. She was well aware of the stratified organization of the city’s inpalpable–but very real–borders between the classes. She would see it as she walked from the gleaming city capital to its crumbling ghettos, seeing inside the windows of both the faces of dreamers, even though only a few of them would actually have the means to see their dreams fulfilled. She scoffed at the miserable state of the city, as its factories burped out puffs of blackness that tightened around its citizens very throats. Yet, as she passed by that very same boy, she too made no move to pull out her coin purse and ease his hunger, at least for one more night.

No, between them, stuck in their own wandering minds of love and hatred for their grandios city, neither made a move toward its actual betterment. Only when another child, a young girl similarly dressed in torn clothes, walked toward the boy did he find any relief. For she had just been able to salvage enough to buy a pastry at the bakery across the street, and, seeing him sitting out there all alone, came over to share it with him. They ate quietly together that summer evening as the sun went down, neither saying a word, but within that silence hung words of unspeakable thanks and understanding that neither the man nor the woman would ever understand.

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