London at work
Under my feet, ground roars in a subtle
way with trains moving people from one town to another. Buildings at
my side wake up dressed in grey-yellow scaffolds because, once more,
they look unproperly yet. And sky is a huge highway jammed with
planes which renovate executives and tourists, waitress and
programmers every single minute. Every second is the same one
repeated, but slightly different. Nothing is here as wanted to be, so
it can not stop. This is place for none, but here we are all.
Comentarios
Publicar un comentario