04 Dec

It’s the people, mate.  The inner workings, the behind the stage workers; those are them.  The everyday workers that go from day to day making a city what it is.  Whomever they may be, coming from faraway lands, or born and raised, it’s the people you meet that lasts as an impression on the city.  A sweet-hearted women offering a warm meal, children playing with hay in a park, an impatient women serving you pizza day after day, or the cozy smile of a jolly stranger saying welcome, come along.  The roads are there, but need the sounds of walking feet, belligerent horns, and loud voices, to come alive.  The water lines are there, but need the hands of locals to wash, the mouths of the thirsty to quench, and skin of children to cool on a warm summer day, to come alive.  For a city can only be heard singing when there are those to listen, and those to sing back.