A psalm for wild built5/10/2023 ![]() ![]() Some multimedia art show that sprinkled in nature sounds, perhaps. Maybe it’d been a movie they watched, or a museum exhibit. Dex couldn’t pinpoint where the affinity had come from. The urge to leave began with the idea of cricket song. A never-ending harmony of making, doing, growing, trying, laughing, running, living. ![]() ![]() The City was a healthy place, a thriving place. A towering architectural celebration of curves and polish and colored light, laced with the connective threads of elevated rail lines and smooth footpaths, flocked with leaves that spilled lushly from every balcony and center divider, each inhaled breath perfumed with cooking spice, fresh nectar, laundry drying in the pristine air. It doesn’t matter that your friends are there, as well as every building you love, every park whose best hidden corners you know, every street your feet instinctively follow without needing to check for directions. It doesn’t matter if the city is a good city, as Panga’s only City was. It doesn’t matter if you’ve spent your entire adult life in a city, as was the case for Sibling Dex. Sometimes, a person reaches a point in their life when it becomes absolutely essential to get the fuck out of the city. ![]()
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