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Description
As I stood up and looked across the skyline, a few thoughts occurred to me. Would I be able to make it out of here again? What would I really do here? Why did I even come here? None of it mattered, of course, because I’d got there by then, and there was no point in turning back and leaving it all behind. The slow descent downwards felt like an eternity, but at last I emerged into the elaborate jewelled hall, the doors sliding cleanly behind me as I walked away. Approaching one of the arrival desks, I leant against it and produced my passport.

“Welcome to our beautiful country.” The woman glared at me with a gruff, uninterested face, as she slammed the opened passport down on the desk. She studied the photograph, glancing up at me, and pulled out her stamp, satisfied but still extremely bored. I cleared my throat nervously.

“Please state your purpose of entry and how long you intend to stay here.” She may as well have just told me to get out of her face in words, because that’s definitely what her face was telling me.

“I’m here to work, and to live, and to experience new things,” I told her with a glimmer of hope. She grunted a strained laugh as she stamped the passport, the dull thud sentencing me to a lifetime spent here.
“Good luck with that,” she said, opening the gates and letting me through the metal detector. I didn’t have anything metal of course; back then all of the money was paper, and what few reserves of iron there were had been kept back for the weapons. That’s just the way things go I guess, but they didn’t bother to tell anybody that on the outside.

So into the city I headed and out of my hopes I stepped into the street. The fumes instantly choked me, passers by shunting me aside with angry looks and furious feet, rushing to get wherever they needed to be. The beautiful skyline became a distant memory as I found my way to my property, replaced by the awful reality that the city was a dump.

I did find something to shout about, however: in the centre of the city, hidden from view above, was a solitary park, tranquil and still. It reserved itself from the rest of the city, defiant that it wouldn’t be tarnished, holding out the fumes and hatred with dignified patience; if the park didn’t exist, I think I’d have been driven mad years ago. Nobody else has ever had time for the park, too busy to be bothered for what little their city has to offer them, and from within, I can faintly see the beautiful skyline, surrounded by the orange sunlight. Someday I’ll find somewhere where the park rules over the city; someday.

Description
As I stood up and looked across the skyline, a few thoughts occurred to me. Would I be able to make it out of here again? What would I really do here? Why did I even come here? None of it mattered, of course, because I’d got there by then, and there was no point in turning back and leaving it all behind. The slow descent downwards felt like an eternity, but at last I emerged into the elaborate jewelled hall, the doors sliding cleanly behind me as I walked away. Approaching one of the arrival desks, I leant against it and produced my passport.

“Welcome to our beautiful country.” The woman glared at me with a gruff, uninterested face, as she slammed the opened passport down on the desk. She studied the photograph, glancing up at me, and pulled out her stamp, satisfied but still extremely bored. I cleared my throat nervously.

“Please state your purpose of entry and how long you intend to stay here.” She may as well have just told me to get out of her face in words, because that’s definitely what her face was telling me.

“I’m here to work, and to live, and to experience new things,” I told her with a glimmer of hope. She grunted a strained laugh as she stamped the passport, the dull thud sentencing me to a lifetime spent here.
“Good luck with that,” she said, opening the gates and letting me through the metal detector. I didn’t have anything metal of course; back then all of the money was paper, and what few reserves of iron there were had been kept back for the weapons. That’s just the way things go I guess, but they didn’t bother to tell anybody that on the outside.

So into the city I headed and out of my hopes I stepped into the street. The fumes instantly choked me, passers by shunting me aside with angry looks and furious feet, rushing to get wherever they needed to be. The beautiful skyline became a distant memory as I found my way to my property, replaced by the awful reality that the city was a dump.

I did find something to shout about, however: in the centre of the city, hidden from view above, was a solitary park, tranquil and still. It reserved itself from the rest of the city, defiant that it wouldn’t be tarnished, holding out the fumes and hatred with dignified patience; if the park didn’t exist, I think I’d have been driven mad years ago. Nobody else has ever had time for the park, too busy to be bothered for what little their city has to offer them, and from within, I can faintly see the beautiful skyline, surrounded by the orange sunlight. Someday I’ll find somewhere where the park rules over the city; someday.