My thoughts on living in the city.
I live in a jungle surrounded by people whose words will never be heard. I moved from a city surrounded by water to a city bounded by walls, tall, thick walls that when they crumble fill foreigners pockets with pebbles and their lungs with city smoke. This is a city where every person is a stranger and only one in a hundred faces is familiar. But my pockets are filled with rivers and my lungs with sea air. You can’t smell the salt in the city. The sea air doesn’t quiet make it up Queen street but hovers uncertainly around the shipping containers not courageous enough to be engulfed by the hundreds of steel stockades and so the buildings stand there victorious. Auckland is a city drowning in spaces undiscovered. Buildings here whisper to me in a hundred voices. Bricks flood together some standing staunch and tall others collapsing into the bustle of strangers bellow, to busy to realize that their city of gold is not beneath their feet but in the sky.