It’s amazing that in a different place. A bigger place, an older place, one with less peace but much more life, lost is my loneliness. Perhaps it’s the thousand simultaneous pours of the morning’s coffee into the hurried paper cup, or that the air itself feels less stale. The papers being poured over by the morning suits and their hurried hush. The unspoken routine the buildings had built themselves upon. This world pulls me in without asking, but it is not unwanted. People on the streets grinding away at whatever they need to do, so they can get to wherever they need to go. I grind away as well, churning out whatever I can in hopes of finding a place here. Falling in love all the while only to be pulled away as soon as my feet become firmly planted. Here love is another feeling. Like being held by a hundred different concrete hands, like being watched by a million different twinkling glass eyes. The conversations unspoken are the most meaningful, I learn to have them with the voices walking by; reminding me that we all exist here together.