they stole the stars

One of the things about the city is, there’s no stars. I ¬†miss them, markers of eternity, filling the night sky with dazzling depth and richness.

There’s many good things about the city, of course, life in this human landscape, written over with the human story in its cracks and stains and crumbling walls and graffiti and historic buildings and eclectic eateries and defiant little parks and countless lives being lived all round each other, all the time. Don’t let anyone say that cities are just blights on the world. For cities are humanity, and humanity is something incredible – both profoundly beautiful and incredibly ugly at the same time. Much like their concrete¬†steel glass bitumen worlds they build around themselves.

But this is one of their great crimes, this robbing the sky of their stars. It’s not to say that there’s nothing beautiful about the lights of a cityscape by night, but it’s a different beauty. A different glory. The bustling rushing honking stop-starting movement, the sheer life of
the city stands in stark contrast with that endless inky blackness full of its myriad of brilliant sentinels, watching in silence age after age, so tranquil and peaceful (at least from this distance).

Two scapes, city and star, full of light, unable to meet. One ageless, timeless, endless emptiness and vastness. The other constructed space, full and unceasing in its flux.

What about you? City or stars?