Busan
BucharestGrey morning. Scurrying, heads down, isolated together
A moment's eye contact with a stranger
Walls that move in and out
A moan, a whisper, a fearful cry, an angry shout
It's not all bad, it's not all bad
A madman muttering underground
Heads bury deeper into papers
Night descends, dark suits replaced by neon ravers.
Emotion-drained faces framed by windows
Shuddering pipes and throbbing floors
3am, the time for new love and old death
Is when I wake up and decide that tomorrow I will try to leave
The city
A moment's eye contact with a stranger
Walls that move in and out
A moan, a whisper, a fearful cry, an angry shout
It's not all bad, it's not all bad
A madman muttering underground
Heads bury deeper into papers
Night descends, dark suits replaced by neon ravers.
Emotion-drained faces framed by windows
Shuddering pipes and throbbing floors
3am, the time for new love and old death
Is when I wake up and decide that tomorrow I will try to leave
The city
All paradoxes of cities in two pictures and a poem.
ReplyDeleteI like both the poem and the photos; you've captured the essence of a city with both really well. =)
ReplyDelete