High-stacked homes shone as stars aligned. They were morse code music. They were a titan’s piano keys. They were an ever changing constant, a reassurance, an urban tranquility. Head-lamps flowed around, rosy tail-lights too. Traffic lights cycled green, amber, red, and back to green again. Though the dayshine bestowed the mountain view, the night bequeathed this sweet sight. To the city lover it is the three-six-five festive lights. In all four bonny seasons, as leaves grew, tumbled and grew once more, there they stood, a forest of gay trees.
Each of the cities had its own way of drawing collective breath beneath the black heavens, of celebrating life after dark.
Each of the cities had its own heartbeat, its own soul, a kind of ether that bonded the people of the place into their own groove and vibe.
The cities of that land were built tall and pretty, as if they took their inspiration from the greatest of trees. For their souls were rooted in nature and this way there was more wild places for the wild species.
The cities were different kinds of gems within a land that rolled in waves of forests and plains.
Each of the cities had its own fashion sense, its own music and flare. There were subtle changes in accents and local vocabularies.
The cities had their own fingerprint told in everything from their slang to the way the celebrated food, song and good-times.