Thinking About The City

January 1st, 2022 by DustyLoft Leave a reply »
Thinking About The City

Thinking about the city: Kids playing around a fire hydrant. Water rushes out. They’re smiling, laughing and joking. Others play stickball in the street. Fielders towards the bottom of the street chant, “a batta batta, a batta batta, swing batta”. A mother yells from her windowsill, “Time for dinner”. A kid puts down his stickball bat. Time for him to go in.
An older lady reels clothes in from a clothesline hung over the back alley of her apartment building. The clothesline runs from the fifth story windowsill of a brick building on the other side of the alley to her windowsill. After unclipping her clothes, she folds them just inside her window, watching kids play outside.
A young couple sits on a fire escape overlooking the alley, talking, flirting, being young, enjoying life. Every once in a while he says something intriguing, she lets out a flirtatious giggle, lightly pushing her hands against his thick winter coat.
A man is closing his business, locking the inner door, pulling down a steel outer door covered in graffiti. A line of people wait to board a bus. A lady digs for change in her purse, stepping into the bus at the same time. Minutes later the bus takes off. A homeless lady pushes a cart down the sidewalk, wearing a thick yet torn up old coat. Her cart’s filled with bags, some clothes and cans.
Street lights and trees planted within the sidewalks are decorated with Christmas lights. Flashing neon signs light up storefronts. Display windows are filled with Christmas decorations. Pigeon’s peck at little bites of food near a diner.
A young woman talks on a payphone at the corner. She’s not paying attention to anything around her. She’s enjoying her conversation. She’s laughing. Her arms and hands move as she talks.
A cement building on the other side of the street is boarded up. The boards are covered in graffiti. Some boards are loose. A homeless person’s probably inside. The cold harsh realities of life most likely beat he or she down. Old, dust covered, partially rotten wooden planks as flooring. A candle for light. A cold can of beans for dinner. A dirty old blanket to keep warm. Yet, he or she is much happier sleeping in the abandon building than the streets.
A man in his late twenties rides his bike through the sidewalk, weaving in and out, and around those walking. He has a small radio. Hip hop plays. The music slowly fades. A lady stops at a hotdog cart on her way home from work. She skipped lunch. She’s starving, paying immediately, taking a bite before she’s given her change. She stands next to the cart, finishing her meal before hurrying home.
  Written by George Farina,

Written by George Farina

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.