driving through the city stirs me. the tall buildings cut off everything but the air right around me, the space between them all that exists as i journey up and down the straight, potholed streets. it is easy for me to see how a person could become myopic living here. there are no trees, no chirping birds or crickets singing. the summer's song is, instead, taxi horns and sirens and people yelling at each other....the ozone-heavy breeze darts in between skyscrapers, tossing the steam pouring from the underground vents and into the street. there is no lazy sitting on of porches, no sipping of lemonade or running through the sprinkler on the lawn. the only people lingering on their front stoops at night are those unfortunate enough not to have artificially cooled air inside their homes, and an occasionally opened fire hydrant subs for their aquatic entertainment. the ground is dirty and littered with bits of trash that tumble out from underneath the passing cars. there are no stars here....the air at night is orange and hazy and the moon rarely shows its face.

i am not a city girl at heart, but something about it still suits me from time to time. it is the urgency, the artistically-driven desperation, the honesty of poverty and lack in the faces of those on the street. my pain is not dormant here; it has no choice but to join forces with the pulsing maelstrom that is the urban life. it is stark and in-your-face. it is just exactly what the suburbs is not. perhaps it is also precisely what i need for this time. this goes without saying....i'm here, aren't i?

i'm not sure where i belong anymore. maybe i am actually a wanderer by nature; there is no place, no type of locale that seems to suit me over another. perhaps it is best that way. this world is not my heart's home. it never will be.