I look out my window; there's not much to see. A mundane concrete landscape dotted with lonely trees. Eager moths perform a floating ballet in the stroboscopic light of a malfunctioning lamp. From a distance, it resembles Broadway on a microscopic scale. I doubt that the spider lurking behind the curtain was invited. Below, in the pile of rubbish, rots a dead fox head.I try to gaze at the stars; not many are there to see, though tonight's sky is rather clear. Their beauty is drowned by the artificial aurora of big city lights, created for the convenience of human lives.

The roaring sound of a passing car pierces the night. Drunken howls and someone's loud TV; there's not much else to hear or see. You have to pay a monthly fee, for the privilege of living here. Thinking human? I do not think so. Our connection with nature is long lost; we severed our ties with the gods of old.

© Shinku