The City

barbara mulvey-welsh

There’s something about the city that sings to me.

There’s a pulse, an electricity.

An urban magic that animates my soul.

It is a rhythm that thrums along the sidewalk as I walk. I feel it in the balls of my feet, loosening each step. I shiver as it races up my spine and syncs with my heartbeat. A promise made – this is home; you are home.

It is power borrowed from a thousand conversations, amplified by the bass from a passing car. It echoes in the blare of an impatient driver. It wraps itself in the swirling detritus of modern life.

This urban magic animates my soul and I cannot bear to be too long away.

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