The street, a jocund party of buildings ancient and new, spoke to the evolution of our city; yet a city is people, not bricks nor mortar. A city is the gaily waving crowd, a host of human hearts.
Longboarding on the blacktop, sailing upon that street with the wind taking me home, the city grew an aliveness that had been lacking these past few years.
The blacktop street stretches onward into the blue sky, as if it and the heavens longed for oneness.
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