calling

cities are full of people, a well known fact that is often taken for granted. people can’t help but come to the city. the tall gray buildings and the quaint, more aged brownstones paint such pretty invitations to the masses that their allure can’t be mistaken. like type a bosses, its streets follow the people around every corner and through every alley, watching each step, even shedding clarity to muffled minds.

in turn, some people are full of the city. they love the city! it fires their days to brush shoulders with the masses and pound the pavement everywhere they go. their blood has smog in it and their souls long for the solace and comfort provided by hoards of fellow city-lovers.

it’s an odd relationship - a city is made of people, and the people make a city. they each need the other like co-dependents, leaning hard on the other’s exhaustive presence. were there no people, a city would be harsh and drab. were there no cities, people would grow hardened, despondent, and aloof by country life. make no mistake, there are some who prefer to leave the cities to the city-lovers, but that’s a different co-dependent relationship for another pondering moment.

i’m sure that some day in my 80’s when i have had enough of life and people and the joys of living, i’ll recant and hole up in a barn somewhere in the country. but until then, i’m convinced that i need the city. we need the city. with all its tough, unsympathetic grandeur and its magnificent, frosty air, i believe we're in that group of earthlings drugged by the city. regardless of the illogically small living space and confoundedly high cost of living, it calls us and begs us to occupy a small plot of cement. the only thing it asks in return is love; love for its people and love for their inner-city souls.