June 3, 2023•297 words
I'm a city person. I could never live in anything with a population less than 500K. It's just the way it is.
One jackal crosses my path that's normal, two it's time to slow down. And then a fox. Clearly there's a party going on.
I'm always seeing things and not sure what is real and what isn't but as long as it stays in the corner of my eye all is good.
When the moon is bright it complicates things as you constantly think there's a car coming when it's not.
However, the beauty about the night is that you can hear things far away so you know there's traffic coming behind you long before it reaches you.
There aren't as many surprises at night as one would think. There seems to be a rhythm to it all. And the more you ride in it the more you adapt.
In the city people seem to be out late at night racing to and from nowhere, but in the wilderness all the responsible calm drivers seem to be sailing gently along to destinations of great purpose.
The city's stray cats sit on garbage cans doing nothing, while out there the domestic cats are on an impressive prowl far away from home.
The Gazelle doesn't shriek for nothing, while the dogs in the city seem to bark at everything and nothing all at once.
The city's police is responding to domestic violence and out there the border police is looking for terrorists.
Back in the city you pass the same people in bars who've been drinking and smoking for the past five hours, taking themselves so seriously, and you know that this world will never be big enough for you again.
I'm a city person cursed with perspective.