Sunday

Written By: Mika Lai

Overhead lays a blanket of tie dye periwinkle and ivory - God’s eye view they call it. It shines against the golden heat, reflecting onto a thousand glass frames. Each frame depicts a different tableau. At the top, several small, tan heads stand stationary, contrasting with the frame to the left that captures the same hurriedly shifting shapes. In the middle highlights two figures, glitter fluttering around their lustful gaze, dispersing in the wind. On the bottom frame, white fabric protects the inside from the streets below. The stone grey roads act as a welcome mat to the numerous cars that roll over it, scratching the already rough surface. They honk and crash at the bumps in the concrete, but every few minutes, when the lights signal bright red, all sound is suctioned out. The city is left with nothing but the rustling of the green and the cheap, neon posters that brush through the atmosphere until they finally come into contact with a pillar or a wall. The same amount of people walked by as the same amount of cars that passed: some march with a motive, some stroll around, flow by each window and door, wonder when they would stop, and enter. Just like ebb and flow, currents, part of a secluded river in a busy jungle. The currents that formed a routine, that stood for the beginning of a journey in a cycle.