The City

The girl wandered as though she was in a dream, but no dream could come close to the dream-like state of reality. Around her people hurried on with their little lives, trying to fulfil all of their self-imposed challenges. She didn't have any. Or none as trivial as others seemed to worry about. Love and work and money. Two out of three weren't bad, and one could be faked. However no one stopped, no one looked. Some people say that the concrete jungle is dead, a barren wasteland. But there was life in the architecture. Tall buildings towering like giants, glancing down at the world below. Crazed sculptures dancing around the landscape, bending and flexing to the will of the world. Landmarks that defined a city more than its people, looking haughty and proud over its domain. Nobody seemed to notice the beauty in all of it. The way the buildings spoke to the world, telling stories to those that bothered listening. The thunder applauded the rain as it did it's kamikaze attack. The people pulled up their coats and ran fast, huddling to avoid the rain. The girl failed to see the point. You get wet, you get dry, you get wet again. It was the purpose of life. You didn't see the buildings seek cover. Instead they stood there and took it, daring the elements to do their worst. The water rolled off her skin, ticking her ever so slightly. She giggled and splashed in the puddles, sending little drops of rainbows into the air. The street grew more deserted, leaving her on her own. She walked, her reflection split a thousand times by the rain. Inside the buildings the people isolated themselves to the world, getting on with their jobs. Forever bemoaning that they were stuck in a concrete jungle. But the city wasn't an jungle, it was a playground. The problem was people just forgot how to have fun. The girl giggled and jumped in another puddle. It was playtime again.